NRLF 


B   14  721  313 


• 


UPS  AND  DOWNS 


1JJ   THE   LIFB  OF 


A    DISTRESSED   GENTLEMAN 


BY   THE  AUTHOB  OF 

TALES  AND  SKETCHES,  SUCH  AS  THEY  ARE. 


If  fortune  wrep  thee  warm, 
Then  friends  about  thee  swarm, 

Like  flies  al>out  a  honey  pot ; 
Bin  if  foriune  frown, 
And  cast  thee  down, 

Thuu  inayest  lie  and  rot. 


NEW- YORK : 
LEAVITT,   LORD  &  CO.   180  BROADWAY. 

BOSTON  : — CROCKER  &  BREWSTER. 

1836. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  by  LEAVITT,  LOED 
&  Co.,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
thirty-six,  in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  southern  district  of  New- 
York. 


West  &  Trow,  Prs 


537664, 


IR&BMIOT'jS* 


WHO  IMAGINE  THAT 


WISDOM  WILL  DIB  WITH  THEIR  OWN  CHILDREN, 


THIS  LITTLE  RECORD   OF  THE 


LIFE    AND     MISFORTUNES    OF    A    GENIUS, 


IS  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED, 


BY  THEIR  FRIEND  AND  WELL  WISHER, 


THE    AUTHOR, 


BILL     OF     LADING. 


INTRODUCTION. 

How  to  keep  a  secret— Unique  illustration  of  the  way  to  doit 
—Historical  truth— Anecdote  of  a  Chinese  Emperor-  ••  9 

CHAPTER  I. 

Wherein  the  Author  discourses  of  cycles,  of  which  he  enu 
merates  a  great  variety,  illustrates  the  uses  of  some,  and 
speaks  of  the  genesis  of  others.  As  to  the  intent  or  ap 
plication  of  this  chapter,  the  reader  will  be  kept  in  the  dark 
for  a  time 13 

CHAPTER  II. 

Of  pedigree — Introduction  to  a  beautiful  section  of  country — 
Birth  of  the  hero— The  secret  of  obtaining  the  root  of  all 
evil 20 

CHAPTER  III. 

Genius  in  its  juvenility— Indulgent  mothers— Women  sure  to 
carry  their  points — Preparation  for  the  university — How.- 
he  gets  in C7 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Intellectual  development— Learned  societies — The  progress  of 
genius — Idleness  and  incompetency  no  bar  to  academic 
advancement— Literary  exercises— A  bit  of  knotty  and 
doubtful  metre — The  hill  of  science — The  crowning  ho 
nor 33 

1* 


O  BILLOFLADING. 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  learned  professions — Why  a  man  should  not  be  a  law 
yer — Contention  respecting  the  birthplace  of  Homer — Any 
body  can  be  a  doctor — Bas  bleus — Medical  studies  and  lec 
tures — A  studious  genius  in  New-York — Gallantry— Sad 
effects  of  choosing  the  wrong  profession 46 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Easy  methods  of  pulpit  preparation — Revival  of  ancient  pulpit 
eloquence — Style  of  living — The  mercantile  profession  not 
incompatible  with  genius— Parallel  between  Burke  and  the 
last  man  that  would  be  thought  of  in  Rhode-Island— The 
art  of  sinking  capital— A  profitable  clerk— A  fire — And  a 
mercantile  catastrophe 57 

CHAPTER  VII. 

A  claim  upon  the  public  treasury— Amy  Darden — Mr.  Whit- 
tlesey — Life  in  Washington — Swells  and  attaches— For 
tune's  frolics— Difficulty  of  getting  rich  by  lotteries— Pock 
ets  to  let 69 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Ancient  edifice — Brief  lecture  upon  the  arts — of  architecture  in 
particular — Summons  from  a  gentleman  in  distress — Pop 
py  Lownds — Prison  discipline — Not  improved  since  the 
days  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield — Unexpected  meeting  with  a 
genius — A  scene  in  limbo — The  bastile — An  aged  prisoner — 
Illiberality  of  a  landlord— Paying  debts  by  the  assistance 
of  the  Recorder 80 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Unexpected  morning  scene  at  the  foot  of  Courtlandt-street-^ 
An  agreeable  surprise— Some  things  can  be  done  as  well  as 
others — Fashionable  travelling — Touches  of  the  sublime  and 
beautiful — Ancient  history  of  Lake  George — Darkness 
visible — Ludicrous  situation  of  the  hero— A  skeleton  dance 


BILL    OF    LADING.  7 

which  did  not  take  place— Fire  works,  and  a  midnight  view 
of  mountain,  wood,  and  water  scenery 95 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  yellow  fever — The  Genius  appearing  by  the  side  of  a  mys 
terious  lady— Unsatisfied  curiosity— Fortune-hunting— 
Bright  prospects  ahead— Obscured  by  a  little  cloud  of  du 
biousness Ill 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Mistake  of  Mr.  Pope— Anticipation— Value  of  editorial  assist 
ance  in  the  march  of  mind — Female  education — Model  of  a 
modern  prospectus— Advantages  of  travel  in  the  art  of  im 
parting  female  embellishments,  mental  and  physical-  124 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Village  excitement  and  ambition— A  pattern  seminary — 
Beautiful  embroidery  and  blending  of  languages — Flight  of 
a  flock  of  girls — A  touch  of  the  brogue — An  explosion — 
Miss  Fortune  turns  out  to  be  a  humbug — A  sad  develop 
ment-  ....... ..,...,.., 139 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Reflections  on  poverty — Mistakes  of  country  people  concern 
ing  the  supposed  wealth  and  comfort  of  every  body  that 
lives  in  town — The  narrative  resumed — Visit  from  the 
hero  in  a  snow-storm — Evidences  of  misfortune,  with  a 
colloquy  thereon — Hard  way  to  earn  a  living — Destitution 
—Relief  therefrom — Miss  Edgeworth's  tale  of  Murad,  the 
Unlucky — Seneca — Closing  moralities  of  the  chapter-  •  155 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Visit  to  the  abode  of  Famine— Unexampled  state  of  destitu 
tion—A  spectacle  that  would  have  melted  the  heart  of 
Shylock— Singular  affection  of  a  wife  who  loved  her  hus- 


BILL    OF   LADING. 

band  too  well  to  keep  him  from  starvation — Charitable 
character  of  New-Yorkers — Visit  to  the  Lombards — Pain 
ful  scenes — Frauds  and  oppression  of  those  establish 
ments — Avarice — How  it  chills  the  current  of  sympathy — 
Chapter  breaks  off  unfinished 171 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Continuation  of  the  subject— Pawn-brokers'  shops  good 
schools  of  study  for  the  philosopher— Illustration  of  in 
temperance — A  loving  husband — How  to  provide  for  one's 
household — A  young  man  about  town — A  benevolent  gam 
bler — A  shark  in  trouble— Unexpected  development — An 
interesting  stranger— Gems — How  to  embezzle  a  jewel — 
The  lady's  history — Ship  of  war  going  to  sea — Forebod 
ings—West  India  climate  and  scenery— Venus  and  her 
glittering  train — A  hurricane  and  a  shipwreck  in  which 
the  hero  has  no  concern — Return  from  the  digression — 
Bedstead  timber 183 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Dilemma  of  Garrick  and  the  author  hereof— Evils  of  prosperity 
— Message  from  a  gentleman  in  Bridewell — Account  of  a 
domestic  civil  war — Tribulations  of  matrimony— Gallantry 
of  a  husband  in  defence  of  his  wife — Accident  to  a  nose 
with  a  woman  behind  it— Scene  in  the  police,  the  actors 
in  which  were  unhappily  born  in  exile  from  their  native 
land— Clemency  of  the  magistrate— What  sad  care  some 
people  take  of  their  virtue— How  to  divide  a  quarrelsome 
house— COMPLETION  OF  THE  CIRCLE— THE  MORAL..  207 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  best  parallel  to  the  conduct  of  the  silly 
ostrich,  that  thrusts  her  head  into  a  thicket,  or  the 
sand,  and  fancies  she  is  thereby  hidden  from  view, 
occurred  some  years  since  in  the  village  of  Catskill. 
A  printer,  who  was  neither  an  observer  of  the  Sab- 
bath,  nor  a  member  of  the  Temperance  Society, 
went  to  a  grocery  one  Sunday  morning  for  a  bottle 
of  gin.  On  coming  out  of  the  dram-shop,  with  his 
decanter  of  fire-water,  he  perceived  that  the  services 
in  the  church  near  by,  were  just  closed,  and  the  con 
gregation  were  returning  to  their  homes.  Not  hav 
ing  entirely  lost  his  self-respect,  and  unwilling  to  be 
seen  in  the  public  street  by  the  whole  village,  on 
such  a  day,  and  with  such  a  burden,  he  hastily  thrust 
his  hand,  holding  the  bottle,  behind,  for  the  purpose 
of  concealing  it  underneath  the  skirts  of  his  coat : 
and  in  this  way,  apparently  with  the  greatest  possi 
ble  unconcern,  the  disciple  of  Faust  walked  up  the 
street,  just  in  advance  of  the  congregation,  Unfor 
tunately,  however,  in  his  haste  he  had  thrust  his 
decanter  quite  through  between  the  folds  of  his  coat- 
skirts,  so  that  his  hands  and  the  neck  of  the  bottle 
only  were  concealed ;  while,  to  the  irresistible  mer 
riment  of  the  people,  the  object  which  he  wished  to 
hide  was  ten  times  more  the  subject  of  observation 
than  it  could  have  been  before.  Very  much  in  the 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

same  predicament  stands  the  writer  of  the  following 
pages.  His  intention  was  to  publish  them  anony 
mously,  if  at  all.  But  an  unauthorized  annunciation 
of  his  name,  in  the  Booksellers'  Advertiser,  a  few 
weeks  since,  has  rendered  the  effort  as  abortive  as 
the  trick  of  the  foolish  bird,  and  the  expedient  of  the 
printer.  The  mask,  thus  torn,  has  therefore  been 
entirely  doffed. 

And  now  a  few  words  as  to  the  sketches  them- 
selves. 

Whatever  else  may  be  said  of  the  writer,  it  can 
not  be  predicated  of  him,  as  by  Addison  of  a  cer 
tain  class  of  biographers  of  his  day,  "  that  they 
watched  for  the  death  of  a  great  man,  like  so  many 
undertakers,  on  purpose  to  make  a  penny  by  him." 
The  subject  of  this  little  volume  is  neither  a  great 
man,  nor,  happily,  is  he  yet  numbered  among  the 
dead.  Should  it  then  be  asked,  Why  write  about 
small  men  at  all,  or,  in  any  event,  until  after  they 
are  dead  ?  The  answer  is  at  hand  :  it  is  the  fashion 
of  the  times  in  which  we  live.  The  present  is  the 
age  of  small  men,  whose  lives  are  necessarily  writ 
ten  while  living,  lest,  when  dead,  and  all  hope  of 
reward  is  past,  nothing  should  be  remembered  to  be 
said  of  them.  What,  moreover,  can  be  more  agree 
able,  than  for  a  man  to  read  his  own  biography, 
especially  when  drawn  by  the  partial  hand  of  friend 
ship,  and  retouched  in  each  successive  edition,  as 
new  circumstances  require,  new  virtues  are  dis 
closed,  and  new  deeds  demand  a  record  ?  It  may 
be  likened  to  the  reading  of  one's  own  epitaph, 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

wherein  one  can  see  to  it  for  himself,  that  SHAK- 
SPEARE  did  not  speak  advisedly  when  he  wrote, 
"  It  is  the  evil  only  that  men  do  that  lives  after  them, 
while  the  good  is  interred  with  their  bones."  And 
besides,  biography  is  history  ;  and  history  has  been 
defined  to  be  "  philosophy  teaching  by  example." 
By  having  his  own  biography  in  his  library,  there 
fore,  a  man  may  become  his  own  philosophical 
teacher,  and  save  the  expense  of  a  professor  ;  while, 
at  the  same  time,  he  can  enjoy  the  consolation  of 
seeing  how  mankind  around  him  are  improving 
themselves  by  the  study  of  his  example.  Should 
the  subject  of  the  present  sketches  object,  that  the 
writer  has  deviated  from  the  course  of  most  modern 
biographers,  by  the  indulgence  of  his  old-fashioned 
notions  of  impartiality  and  truth,  he  must  plead 
guilty  to  the  charge  ;  but,  in  mitigation  of  punish 
ment,  he  would  beg  leave  to  relate  a  story  : 

It  is  written  in  the  annals  of  the  Celestial  Empire, 
that  there  once,  and  for  ages,  existed  an  historical 
tribunal,  instituted  for  the  purpose  of  perpetuating 
the  virtues  and  vices  of  their  monarchs.  One  day 
the  Emperor  Tai-t*song  summoned  the  President  of 
this  tribunal  before  him,  and  ordered  him  to  exhibit 
the  history  of  his  own  reign.  The  President  de 
clined  to  obey  the  mandate,  upon  the  ground  that 
they  were  required  to  keep  an  exact  record  of  the 
virtues  and  vices  of  their  sovereigns,  and  would  no 
longer  be  at  liberty  to  record  the  truth,  if  their  re 
gister  was  to  be  subject  to  the  royal  inspection. 
"  What !"  exclaimed  the  Father  of  the  Sun  and  the 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

Uncle  of  the  Moon,  "  you  transmit  my  history  to 
posterity,  and  do  you  assume  the  liberty  of  acquaint 
ing  it  with  my  faults  ?"  "  It  is  inconsistent  with  my 
character,"  rejoined  the  President,  "  and  with  the 
dignity  of  my  office,  ever  to  disguise  the  truth.  I 
am  bound  to  record  the  whole,  even  to  the  slightest 
fault ;  and  such  is  the  exactness  and  severity  of  my 
duty,  that  I  am  not  suffered  to  omit  a  record  of  our 
present  conversation."  Tai-t-song  had  an  elevation 
of  soul  to  be  found  in  the  hearts  of  few  monarchs, 
even  in  more  civilized  countries  than  the  land  of 
Confucius.  "  Continue,"  said  he  to  the  official  his- 
torian,  "  to  write  the  truth  without  constraint.  May 
my  virtues  and  vices  contribute  to  the  public  utility, 
and  be  instructive  to  my  successors.  Your  tribunal 
is  free  ;  I  will  for  ever  protect  it,  and  permit  it  to 
write  my  history  with  the  utmost  impartiality." 

It  is  readily  admitted  that  the  cases  are  not  ex 
actly  parallel.  Still,  the  relation  contains  an  excel 
lent  lesson,  not  only  to  princes,  but  to  other  people. 
How  happy  would  it  be  for  the  world,  if  we  all  lived 
under  the  full  persuasion  of  the  fact,  that  the  faithful 
hand  of  history  will  not  fail  to  send  us  down  to  pos 
terity  odious  or  respected,  as  by  our  lives  and  con 
duct  we  shall  have  deserved !  And  if  my  friend 
Wheelwright  shall  feel  offended  that  I  have  kept  a 
record  of  the  most  striking  incidents  of  his  life,  I 
have  only  to  hope  that  he  will  dispel  his  frowns,  dis 
miss  his  objections,  and,  by  his  own  example,  illus 
trate  the  value  of  such  magnanimity  as  that  dis 
played  by  the  Emperor  of  China. 


SOME    PASSAGES 

IN  THE    LIFE  OP 

MR.  DANIEL  WHEELWRIGHT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    DISQUISITION    ON    CIRCLES. 
"In  circle  following,  circle" 

THE  horse  at  the  cider-mill ;  the 
mules  in  the  press-room  of  the  Ameri 
can  Tract  Society  ;  and  the  watchman 
who  walks  his  drowsy  round  until  he 
falls  asleep;  are  not  the  only  beings 
that  spend  their  lives  in  traversing  a 
circle.  As  the  curve  is  the  true  line  of 
beauty,  and  as  the  circle  in  Egyptian 
hieroglyphics  is  ever  used  as  the  sym 
bol  of  renewed  life — the  type  or  sign 
of  the  generative  principle — so  the 
motion  produced  by  the  centripetal  and 
centrifugal  forces,  seems  to  be  that  of 


14  APIS  QUIS ITION 

nature.  We  are  often  told  of  the  never- 
ending  domestic  duties  of  the  faithful 
housewife,  doomed — 

"  To  tread  the  same  dull  circle  round  and  round ;" — 

The  parson  often  discourses  touching 
the  round  of  his  parochial  duties  ;  and 
who  does  not  sympathize  with  the 
diurnal  editor  at  the  thought  of  the 
harassing  duties  devolving  upon  him, 
"  in  circles  incessant."  The  man 
of  the  world,  and  the  sensualist,  dance 
the  giddy  round  of  pleasure.  The 
judge  goes  his  circuit,  to  bring  men  to 
justice  in  this  world,  and  the  self-de 
nying  missionary  traverses  his,  to  save 
them  from  it  in  the  next.  It  is  very 
true  that  the  periphery  of  the  circles 
traversed  by  some  persons  and  objects, 
is  greater  than  that  of  others.  One  man 
walks  the  circumference  of  his  duties 
in  a  single  day;  another  in  a  week  ; 
while  it  may  require  the  whole  life  of 


ONCIRCLES.  15 

the  third  to  perform  the  journey.  Many 
members  of  Congress  make  speeches  in 
circles,  whether  arguing  abstruse  points 
of  constitutional  law,  or  the  claims  of  a 
party  candidate ;  as  do  lawyers  their 
cases  at  the  bar,  proving  the  foregoing 
proposition  by  the  following,  and  infer 
ring  the  following  from  the  foregoing. 
Cast  a  stone  into  a  lake  or  a  mill-pond, 
and  it  will  produce  a  succession  of  mo 
tions,  circle  following  circle  in  order, 
and  extending  the  radius  until  they  dis 
appear  in  the  distance.  The  political 
movements  of  nations  are  circular. 
Under  the  severe  pressure  of  despotism 
the  people  rise  in  their  fury,  and  snap 
their  chains  asunder.  A  republic  fol 
lows  ;  degenerating  first  into  a  rude 
and  wild  democracy ;  and  thence  into 
a  cruel  and  more  turbulent  anarchy. 
As  a  relief  from  the  evils  of  this,  the 
people,  sighing  for  repose,  fly  back  again 
into  the  arms  of  despotism.  But  with 
a  people  who  have  once  tasted  the 


16  A    DISQUISITION 

sweets  of  liberty,  this  kind  of  tranquil 
lity  is  short.  Maddened  by  wrongs, 
real  or  supposed,  they  are  soon  pre 
pared  again  to  rush  into  the  death- 
dance  of  revolution.  The  "  one  eternal 
principle"  of  the  Chinese,  forming  "  the 
first  link  in  the  great  material  chain'7  of 
their  system,  is  represented  by  a  circle. 
Time  wings  his  flight  in  circles,  and 
every  year  rolls  round  within  itself. 
Hence  the  poets  sing  of  "  the  circling 
years."  The  sun  turns  round  upon  his 
own  axis ;  and  the  moon  "  changes 
monthly  in  her  circled  orb."  The  other 
celestial  bodies  all  wheel  their  courses 
in  circles  around  the  common  centre. 
The  moons  of  Jupiter  revolve  around 
him  in  circles,  and  he  carries  them 
along  with  him  in  his  periodical  circuit 
round  the  sun.  Saturn  always  moves 
within  his  rings,  and  thus  adorned  him 
self,  walks  in  circles  through  the  regions 
of space : — 

"  And  other  planets  circle  other  suns." 


ON    CIRCLE  S  .  17 

A  ship  on  the  ocean,  though  appa 
rently  bounding  over  a  plain  of  waters, 
rides  in  fact  upon  the  circumference 
of  a  circle  around  the  arch  of  the 
earth's  diameter.  The  brisk  swallow 
cuts  the  air  in  circles;  the  vampire 
wheels  circularly  about  your  head ;  the 
timid  hare  flees  the  ravenous  pack  of 
the  sportsman  in  a  winding  course,  un 
til  in  despair  it  returns  to  die  in  its 
form.  The  lunar  circle  betokens  a 
tempest ; — modern  writers  on  pneuma 
tics  affirm  every  breeze  that  blows, 
from  the  gentle-breathing  zephyr  to  the 
rude  northeastern  blast,  to  be  a  whirl 
wind;  and  the  beautiful  hues  of  the 
iris,  bright  with  hope  and  promise,  play 
upon  the  melting  clouds  in  the  segment 
of  a  circle.  The  eagle  soars  toward 
the  heavens  in  curves,  as  though  mea 
suring  the  angles  of  distant  objects  by 
geometrical  figures ;  and  the  drunkard, 
when  unable  longer  to  control  his 


18  A   DISQUISITION 

movements,  describes  a  curvilinear  path 
as  he  reels  homeward  from  his  revels, 
and  waits  at  his  bed-side  to  catch  hold 
of  a  post  as  it  "  comes  round  again." 
Those  German  principalities  which  are 
represented  in  the  Diet,  are  denomi 
nated  circles  ;  and  if  a  man  is  so  igno 
rant  as  not  to  know  that  the  moss  al 
ways  grows  on  the  north  side  of  a  tree, 
and  consequently  gets  lost  in  the  woods, 
he  invariably  makes  the  discovery  by 
finding  that  he  has  been  unconsciously 
traversing  a  circle.  Indeed,  with  most 
of  our  race  the  journey  of  human  life 
would  be  circular,  were  it  not  that  it 
has  both  a  beginning  and  an  end, — and 
so  has  a  circle,  if  you  could  find  them. 
From  all  which  it  follows,  that  by  the 
laws  of  the  universe,  all  things,  animate 
and  inanimate,  move  in  revolutionary 
harmony ;  and  though  complex  in  their 
machinery  as  the  wheels  of  EzekieFs 
vision,  are  yet  so  perfect  and  beautiful  in 


ON    CIRCLES.  19 

their  order,  as  to  have  suggested  to  the 
ancients  the  poetical  idea  of  "  the  music 
of  the  spheres."  And  now  for  the  truth 
of  the  foregoing  propositions  in  geome 
trical  physics,  they  shall,  in  at  least  one 
striking  instance,  be  illustrated  by  a 
few  passages  from  the  life  and  adven 
tures  of  a  quondam  acquaintance  of 
mine,  whose  name  stands  at  the  head 
of  this  bit  of  biography. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BIRTH    AND    PARENTAGE. 

11 1  am  no  herald,  to  inquire  of  men's  pedigrees  ;  it  sufficeth 
me  if  I  know  their  virtues." — Sidney. 

THERE  being  no  herald's  college  in 
this  free  and  happy  country,  where 
equality  was  declared  by  the  revolu 
tionary  congress  to  be  as  self-evident  as 
our  right  to  independence,  I  have  no 
means  of  tracing  the  pedigree  of  my 
friend  for  many  generations  back.  In 
deed,  as  it  was  long  ago  remarked  by 
Lord  Camden,  alterations  of  sirnames 
were  in  former  ages  so  very  common,  as 
to  have  obscured  the  truth  of  our  pedi 
grees,  so  that  it  is  no  little  labor  to  de 
duce  many  of  them.  But,  although  no 
crest  marks  the  career  of  his  ancestors, 
or  shield  emblazons  their  escutcheon 
with  mementoes  of  achievements  in  arts 
or  in  arms ;  and  although  I  claim  not 


BIRTH    AND   PARENTAGE.  21 

in  his  behalf,  as  of  the  heroes  in  olden 
times,  "a  pedigree  that  reached  to  hea 
ven,"  yet  no  doubt  exists  of  the  antiquity 
of  his  family.  The  name  was  duly  in 
scribed  in  the  Doomsday  book  of  the  Nor 
man  Conqueror,  and  had  not  the  limbs 
of  the  genealogical  tree  been  broken, 
it  is  believed  that  their  ancestry  might, 
nevertheless,  have  been  traced  back  to 
a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Japheth, 
"who  was  the  son  of  Noah."  Still,  as 
I  have  already  intimated,  this  inquiry 
can  be  of  little  consequence.  In  this 
land  of  freedom,  where  every  tub  stands 
on  its  own  bottom — where  men  are  the 
architects  of  their  own  fame  and  for 
tunes — where  he  that  hath  neither  coat 
nor  shoes  is  at  liberty  to  go  without 
them, — it  is  of  little  moment  whether  a 
man  knows  who  he  happens  to  be,  or 
not,  provided  always  that  he  behaves 
well.  Nay,  if  he  cannot  tell  whence  he 
sprung,  he  escapes  the  censure  of  being 


22  BIRTH     AND     PARENTAGE. 

the  son  of  his  father,  and  may  arrive  at 
the  highest  honors  of  the  republic  with 
out  either  borrowing  merit  from  the 
dead,  or  having  any  too  much  of  his 
own.  Avoiding  genealogies,  therefore, 
I  will  come  directly  to  the  point,  and 
assume  it  as  granted,  that,  inasmuch  as 
Mr.  Daniel  Wheelwright  is  known  to 
have  had  a  father  and  mother,  so  like 
wise  he  must  have  had  grand-parents. 
And  these  were,  doubtless,  sensible  and 
judicious  people,  more  desirous  of  being 
industrious  and  useful,  than  what  the 
world  calls  great.  Borrowing,  therefore, 
a  hint  from  their  own  honest  name,  in 
selecting  an  occupation  for  their  son, 
they  chose  that  of  coachmaking — an 
art,  which,  in  the  progress  of  civiliza 
tion,  he  carried  from  New- Jersey  into 
the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Mohawk — 
not  many  years  after  the  original  pro 
prietors  of  that  section  of  the  republic 
had  been  finally  driven  away  by  those 


BIRTH     AND     PARENTAGE.  23 

who  understood  tilling  their  land  better 
than  they.  It  was  in  this  picturesque 
and  delightful  valley,  on  the  banks  of 
the  river,  and  in  a  town  alike  celebrated 
for  the  taste  of  its  people  in  architect 
ure,  and  distinguished  as  a  seat  of  learn 
ing,  that  my  friend  and  hero,  Daniel, 
first  saw  the  light.  I  have  cast  no  figure 
to  ascertain  which  of  the  divinities  pre 
sided  at  his  birth,  or  what  particular 
star  first  pencilled  his  pale  blue  eyes 
with  its  silver  rays.  But  no  angry  planet 
was  culminating  in  that  particular 
chamber  of  the  heavens  at  the  time,  for 
he  grew  up  the  best-natured  being  in 
those  parts;  and  if  the  genius  of  Dul- 
ness  was  not  actually  present  on  the 
occasion,  his  court  must  have  been  held 
on  that  evening  at  no  great  distance 
therefrom.  Not  to  be  too  particular,  how 
ever,  it  is  enough  for  the  present  to 
say,  that  he  waxed  towards  the  stature 
of  manhood  much  as  other  boys  do — 


24  BIRTH     AND     PARENTAGE. 

save  that  he  was  never  engaged  in  a 
quarrel — from  the  circumstance,  proba 
bly,  that  he  had  neither  sufficient  energy, 
nor  decision  of  character,  to  commence 
or  to  end  one.  To  do  him  justice,  if 
honesty  be  a  fault,  it  was  surely  his ; 
and  I  can  truly  say  that  in  all  the  pass 
ing  vicissitudes  of  his  life,  it  has  never 
been  taken  out  of  him  to  this  day.  His 
father  was  industrious  and  economical, 
never  losing  an  hour  in  which  he  could 
make  any  thing,  or  parting  with  a  dol 
lar  so  long  as  he  could  keep  it.  In  his 
domestic  arrangements  he  was  exceed 
ingly  careful  that  nothing  should  be 
lost.  If  he  had  eels  for  breakfast,  he 
would  always  contrive,  by  preserving 
and  drying  the  skins,  to  save  more  than 
the  original  cost  of  these  somewhat 
questionable  members  of  the  piscatory 
family.  He  early  instructed  his  son  in 
the  elementary  principles  of  his  trade ; 
and  it  is  believed  that  before  he  was 


BIRTH     AND     PARENTAGE.          25 

seventeen  he  not  only  knew  the  number 
of  spokes  in  a  wheel,  but  had  actually 
adjusted  them  to  the  felloes,  and  driven 
them  up  to  the  hub.  He  was  also 
taught  in  some  branches  of  household 
carpentry  work,  which  proved  of  no  dis 
advantage  to  him  in  the  end.  Full  of 
good  nature,  he  was  always  popular 
with  the  boys ;  was  never  so  indus 
trious  as  when  manufacturing  to  their 
order  little  writing  desks,  fancy  boxes, 
and  other  trifling  articles  not  beyond 
the  scope  of  his  mechanical  ingenuity — 
for  which  he  exacted  such  compen 
sation  as  he  could  obtain.  In  sober 
truth,  like  his  parent,  he  was  fond  of 
money.  The  world,  he  was  wont  to 
say,  owed  him  a  living,  and  he  prided 
himself  not  a  little  on  his  skill  in  pro 
curing  the  wherewithal.  And  yet  he 
was  rarely  known  to  realize  one  shil 
ling  that  did  not  cost  him  two ;  or  in 
other  words,  in  all  his  multifarious 
3 


26       BIRTH    AND    PARENTAGE. 

transactions  of  barter  and  otherwise, 
he  was  almost  uniformly  overreached. 
There  was  one  way,  moreover,  in  which 
his  little  earnings  could  always  be 
taken  from  him.  He  was  fond  of  good 
living,  albeit  not  his  father's  fault,  since 
his  family  board  was  seldom  spread 
with  other  than  the  plainest  and  least 
expensive  fare.  Certain  was  it,  there 
fore,  that  the  palate  had  never  received 
any  epicurean  lessons  at  home ;  but  it 
was  equally  certain  that  he  had  ac 
quired  a  taste  for  the  good  things  of 
this  world.  Hence  those  of  his  asso 
ciates  who  had  a  design  upon  whatever 
of  small  change  they  supposed  him  from 
time  to  time  to  have  accumulated,  had 
only  to  tempt  him  with  some  trifling 
luxury,  and  the  work  was  done.  A 
plate  of  oysters  was  irresistible! 


CHAPTER   III. 

HIS     DESTINY     UNDERGOES     A     CHANGE. 

"  God  give  them  wisdom  that  have  it ;   and  those  that  are 
fools,  let  them  use  their  talents." — Shakspeare. 

Daniel  Wheelwright  grew  up  a  tall 
and  stately  youth ;  and  to  do  him  jus 
tice,  his  personal  appearance  was  not 
a  little  in  his  favor.  I  have  before  in 
timated  that  the  city  in  which  he  dwelt 
was  the  seat  of  a  learned  institution ; 
and  it  was  his  fortune — ill  or  good,  will 
appear  in  the  sequel — to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  several  inmates  of 
the  university,  who  seemed  "  to  take  a 
liking  to  him,'7  to  borrow  the  quaint 
juvenile  expression  in  such  cases,  espe 
cially  during  the  ripening  and  ingather 
ing  of  the  fruit  in  his  father's  little  or 
chard.  At  these  seasons  their  visits 
were  frequent ;  and  as  the  student's  life 


28  HISDESTINY 

appeared  to  be  at  once  more  easy  and 
promising  than  a  coachmaker's,  and 
more  genteel  withal,  Daniel  manifested 
a  desire  to  change  his  occupation.  It 
may  be,  however — for  Daniel  is  my 
friend,  and  were  he  not,  I  would  do  him 
no  injustice — that  the  fire  of  ambition 
had  begun  to  glow  in  his  bosom,  and 
that  he  was  really  and  truly  desirous 
of  describing  a  wider  "  circle"  than  that 
of  a  carriage  wheel.  His  mother,  too — 
mothers  always  most  love  and  indulge 
the  oldest  son — discovered  a  genius  in 
Daniel  requiring  only  means  and  op 
portunity,  to  wing  an  eagle-flight.  It 
was  some  considerable  time,  however, 
before  the  father  could  be  persuaded 
into  the  measure.  By  dint  of  industry 
and  economy,  he  was  getting  along 
snugly  in  the  world;  and  as  he  had  no 
more  extended  education  himself,  he 
judged  it  all-sufficient  if  a  man  could 
read  his  Bible,  and  cast  the  interest  on 


UNDERGOES     A     CHANGE.  29 

a  note  of  hand  by  the  assistance  of  Da- 
boll's  Arithmetic.  My  friend's  com 
mon-school  education,  therefore,  was 
judged  by  his  father  to  be  all  that  w&s 
necessary  for  an  honest  man.  But  the 
woman  prevailed,— as  women  generally 
do.  It  happened  that  at  the  distance 
of  some  sixty  or  seventy  miles  farther 
up  the  vale  of  the  Mohawk,  lived  a  man 
whom  she  had  previously  known  in  New- 
Jersey,  and  whose  occupation  was  that  of 
"  teaching  young  ideas  how  to  shoot" — - 
not  grouse  and  woodcock,  but  to  shoot 
forth  into  scions  of  learning.  He  had  a 
son  whom  he  desired  exceedingly  to 
send  to  college ;  but  as  he  was  forever 
compelled  to  be  scraping  the  bottom  of 
his  scanty  exchequer  to  supply  the  cur 
rent  wants  of  his  family,  lie  was  desti 
tute  of  the  means;— and  there  were 
fewer  education  societies,  and  other  fa- 
cilities  for  obtaining  eleemosynary  in 
struction  in  those  days  than  in  the  pre- 

3* 


30  HISDESTINY 

sent  age  of  disinterested  benevolence. 
The  inventive  genius  of  the  woman  was 
therefore  not  slow  to  devise  a  project  by 
which  her  friend  might  be  served,  while 
at  the  same  time  her  own  favorite  de 
sign  might  be  furthered — and  that,  too, 
without  making,  even  prospectively,  any 
essential  encroachment  upon  the  means 
of  her  husband.  For  the  attainment  of 
this  object — or  rather  for  the  removal 
of  so  formidable  an  obstacle  in  the  fu 
ture  career  of  her  son — she  had  for  a 
long  while  been  taxing  her  inventive 
and  diplomatic  powers.  An  arrange 
ment  was  therefore  soon  negotiated,  by 
which  the  pedagogue  received  our  hero 
under  his  own  roof,  and  prepared  him 
for  the  university,  while  his  own  son 
was  taken  as  a  boarder  into  the  family 
of  the  coachmaker,  where  he  remained 
during  the  whole  of  his  collegiate  course. 
The  immediate  results  were  auspicious. 
The  son  of  the  pedagogue  took  the  ho- 


UNDERGOES     A     CHANGE.  31 

nors  of  his  class,  and  has  since  been 
enabled  to  rejoice  as  the  president  of  a 
transmontane  university ;  and  our  hero 
was,  in  turn,  duly  prepared  for  matricu 
lation  beneath  the  academic  evergreens 
of  his  own  neighborhood.  It  is  but  fair 
to  acknowledge,  moreover,  that  students 
have  entered  that  institution,  as  well  as 
divers  others,  no  better  prepared  than 
Daniel  Wheelwright.  Notwithstanding 
the  natural  indolence  of  his  character, 
he  knew  that  he  must  know  something 
before  he  could  enter  college,  and  that 
in  case  of  a  failure,  he  must  again  cul 
tivate  more  acquaintance  with  the  fel 
loes  of  the  shop,  than  with  the  fellows 
of  the  university ;  and  with  the  stimulus 
of  such  a  consideration  before  him,  he 
applied  himself  to  his  books  with  ex 
traordinary  diligence.  His  preceptor 
was  in  all  respects  adequate  to  his  task  ; 
and  the  requisites  of  the  college  being 
quite  liberal  and  republican — not  re 
pressing  the  generous  ardor  of  young 


32  HIS     DESTINY,   ETC. 

ambition  by  exacting  too  much  in  the 
outset — the  aspiring  Daniel  crossed  the 
threshhold  of  the  university  without  any 
considerable  difficulty.  His  prudent  and 
sagacious  mother  had  managed  every 
thing  with  consummate  forecast  and 
tact;  and  to  avoid  any  difficulty  that 
might  have  resulted  from  too  many  un 
answered  questions,  her  son  had  been 
represented  to  the  faculty  as  a  very 
modest  and  diffident  youth,  who  knew 
much  more  than  he  could  tell — like  the 
grave  bird,  of  which  it  was  believed  that 
although  it  said  but  little,  it  thought 
the  more.  Indeed,  it  is  believed  that  he 
had  actually  read  Cornelius  Nepos  and 
three  books  of  the  ^Eneid.  He  had  like 
wise  thumbed  over  his  Greek  grammar, 
and  gone  through  the  gospel  of  John. 
The  kind  mother  heard  of  his  initiatory 
success  with  delight,  and  the  father  was 
rather  gratified  than  otherwise — espe 
cially  as  it  cost  him  nothing. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OP  UNIVERSITY  HONORS  AND  THE  WAY 
THEY  ARE  OBTAINED. 

"O  this  learning!  what  a  thing  it  \s\"—Shakspeare. 

"You  do  ill  to  teach  the  child  such  words  :  he  teaches  him 
to  hick  and  to  hack,  which  they'll  do  fast  enough  of  them 
selves  ;  and  to  call  horum ;  fye  upon  you !" — Idem. 

How  young  Wheelwright  had  ever 
accomplished  even  what  has  already 
been  indicated,  was  a  matter  of  asto 
nishment  to  himself;  and  before  many 
months  had  passed  away,  to  every 
body  else,  for  his  subsequent  acquire 
ments  did  not  correspond  thereunto.  In 
good  sooth  it  is  believed  that  he  never 
really  mastered  a  single  lesson  after 
ward.  Having  succeeded  in  getting 
into  the  college,  it  was  a  very  rational 
conclusion  that  he  would  some  day  find 
his  way  out  of  it.  He  knew  that  the 
four  years  would  pass  away  in  less  than 
five;  and  as  he  had  turned  student  to 


34  UNIVERSITY    HONORS. 

avoid  hard  labor,  why  should  he  fatigue 
himself  by  digging  at  the  roots  of  hard 
language !  It  was  either  from  sheer 
indolence,  or  because  he  had  completely 
exhausted  himself  in  his  preparatory 
studies,  that  he  made  no  farther  advan 
ces  in  literature,  although  he  kept  with 
in  its  flowery  walks.  I  have  already 
mentioned  a  snug  little  orchard,  which, 
in  truth,  was  one  of  rare  productiveness, 
and  of  which  his  father's  industry  had 
made  him  the  proprietor.  The  produce 
of  this  orchard,  both  of  apples  and  cider, 
added  to,  and  in  connection  with,  his 
imperturbable  good  nature,  enabled 
Daniel  to  maintain  the  popularity  among 
the  students  of  which  I  have  spoken  in  a 
former  chapter.  The  reader  will  not  be 
surprised,  therefore,  to  learn  that  he  suc 
ceeded  in  obtaining  an  election  as  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Philo-Peitho-logicalethian  In 
stitute — a  society,  as  its  name  imports, 
learned  in  all  that  is  eloquent,  logical 


HOW     OBTAINED.  35 

and  veracious — and  of  which,  I  am  proud 
to  say,  the  distinguished  subject  of  this 
memoir  had  the  honor  once  of  being1 
chosen  semi-monthly  secretary,  after* 
a  sharp  and  close  canvass.  In  the  trans 
actions  of  this  society  the  principal  forte 
of  Daniel  was  debating;  albeit  the  cha 
racter  of  his  elocution  was  not  the  most 
brilliant,  and  it  was  not  often  until  after 
the  ayes  and  noes  were  called,  that  it 
could  be  determined  from  the  drift  of 
his  argument,  which  side  he  had  es 
poused,  or  in  fact  whether  he  himself 
understood  the  proposition — unless,  in 
deed,  as  was  sometimes  the  case,  he 
commenced  his  speech  by  saying,  "  Mr. 
President,  I  are  in  favor  of  the  negative 
of  that  are  question."  In  the  ordinary 
tasks  of  his  class  he  contrived  from  day 
to  day,  by  the  promptings  of  others,  to 
work  his  way  along ;  and  previous  to 
the  quarterly  examinations,  it  was  his 
practice  to  obtain  the  assistance  of  some 


36  UNIVERSITY     HONORS. 

of  his  classmates  to  go  over  his  exer 
cises  with  him,  which  they  very  cheer 
fully  did,  as  an  evening  could  always  be 
comfortably  spent  in  this  way,  over  a 
pitcher  of  cider  and  a  basket  of  apples. 
Having  a  pretty  good  memory,  Dan 
could  retain  a  part  of  his  lesson,  guess  at 
another  part,  and  catch  the  wings  and 
legs  of  the  residue  from  the  promptings 
of  friends — although  he  so  greatly  out 
stripped  them  in  growth,  that  it  became 
difficult  to  send  the  necessarily  subdued 
sounds  of  their  corrections  up  to  his  anx 
ious  ears.  It  was  a  kind  and  indulgent 
class  of  which  he  was  a  member,  and 
of  no  ordinary  character— it  having  fur 
nished  the  president  of  one  university ; 
the  chief  manager,  for  years,  of  half  the 
Christian  missionaries  in  heathendom ; 
and  its  full  share  of  learned  professors, 
sagacious  legislators,  and  eloquent  coun 
sellors  in  the  law.  And  as  the  truly 
great  are  ever  the  most  active  in  labors 


HOWOBTAINED.  37 

of  love,  its  members  were  always  ready 
and  willing  to  lend  our  hero  a  helping 
hand  in  "  climbing  "  the  difficult  "  steep" 
which  Dr.  Beattie  pronounces  so  "hard" 
of  access.  Still,  at  the  close  of  every 
quarter,  he  was  regularly  "read  off,"  as 
the  declaration  of  deficiency  is  denomi 
nated,  and  threatened  with  degradation. 
But  he  nevertheless  kept  along;  how, 
his  biographer  cannot  tell ; — all  that 
he  is  able  to  say  upon  this  point,  being 
the  fact,  that  the  close  of  every  academic 
year  found  him  one  year  older,  some 
what  taller,  and  advanced  one  grade 
higher  in  his  classic  course.  Whether 
on  the  ground  of  proficiency,  of  size,  of 
family  influence,  or  for  the  purpose  of 
swelling  the  catalogue  by  another  name, 
the  reader  is  left  to  determine  for  him 
self. 

The  earth  having  at  length  nearly 
completed   her    fourth    annual    circle 
around  the  orb    of  day,  since  Daniel 
4 


38  UNIVERSIT    HONORS. 

commenced  his  collegiate  course,  the 
anniversary  at  which  he  was  to  take 
his  degree,  if  he  could  get  it,  was 
rapidly  approaching,  for  which  oc 
casion  it  may  well  be  supposed  he  was 
no  better  prepared  than  he  should  be. 
The  faculty,  however,  were  indulgent, 
and  had,  moreover,  even  at  that  early 
day,  hit  upon  the  happy  expedient  of 
awarding  to  every  member  of  the  gra 
duating  class  an  honor  of  some  sort, 
the  delivery  of  an  oration  or  a  poem, — 
taking  especial  care,  by  the  way,  to 
note  in  theproces  verbal  of  the  exercises 
that  those  students  who  were  too  poor 
to  purchase,  and  too  stupid  to  manu 
facture,  either  the  one  or  the  other,  had 
been  excused  from  taking  the  part  as 
signed  ; — a  convenient  device,  by  which 
many  a  deceived  and  doting  parent  has 
been  adroitly  blinded.  It  was  in  this 
way  that  the  faculty  determined  to  dis 
pose  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir ;  and 


HOWOBTAINED.  39 

an  Irish  professor,  who  was  an  incon 
tinent  snuff-taker,  and  sometimes  a  lit 
tle  mischievous  withal,  caused  him  to 
be  announced  for  a  poem.  Alike  to 
the  amusement  and  the  astonishment  of 
every  body,  although  he  had  no  ear  for 
numbers,  and  scarcely  knew  a  dactyl 
from  a  spondee,  Daniel  accepted  the 
honor.  Nor,  after  all,  was  he  so  much 
of  a  fool  as  many  people  took  him  to 
be ;  and,  whether  by  the  process  of 
counting  his  fingers,  or  by  some  other 
means,  I  cannot  say,  but  still  I  have 
known  him  to  bring  out  several  stanzas 
of  Hudibrastic  metre,  sweetly  rhyming 
"trees"  with  "breeze,"  "love"  with 
"dove,"  "zephyr"  with  "heifer,"  &c. 
Indeed  I  have  likewise  known  him  to 
be  guilty  of  positive  waggery ;  but  it 
must  be  confessed  that  in  this  line  his 
attempts  were  few  and  far  between, 
and  not  always  successful.  He  had 
seen,  however,  that  the  professor,  though 


40  UNIVERSITY   HONORS. 

not  exactly  poking  fun  at  him,  had  ne 
vertheless  intended  a  sly  touch  of  irony 
upon  his  proverbially  prosing  character. 
He  therefore  determined  to  "  be  up  to 
him,"  as  the  fancy  have  it ;  and  having 
somewhere  found  the  copy  of  an  obso 
lete  satirical  epic  which  an  ejiamored 
snuff-taker  had  once  addressed  to  a 
mistress,  who  could  reciprocate  the  in 
terjection  over  her  snuffbox, — 

"  Knows  he  the  joys  that  my  nose  knows !" 

Wheelwright  copied  it  out,  and  pre 
sented  it  to  the  faculty  as  his  own  com 
position.  Being  addicted  to  the  use  of 
the  titillating  powder  himself,  it  was 
but  a  reasonable  supposition  on  his  own 
part,  that  it  would  give  no  offence,  It 
commenced  thus : — 

Softly  waft,  ye  southern  breezes, 
Bear  my  plaints  to  her  I  love — 
Say  to  her  whene'er  she  sneezes, 
Sympathy  my  muscles  move ; 


HOW    OBTAINED.  41 

My  true-love  is  formed  of  graces, 

Takes  cephalic,  likes  a  quid, 
And  is  beauteous  as  the  faces 

Carved  on  an  Irish  snuff-box  lid. 

Cetera  desunt. 

The  hit  at  the  rhetoric-professor's 
snuff-box  was  only  understood  by  those 
who  had  seen  the  article  referred  to ; 
and  on  the  whole,  the  performance  was 
considered  a  very  clever  jeu-d' esprit  by 
the  faculty,  who  knew  nothing  of  its 
paternity,  and  set  it  down  as  his  own. 
Still,  as  being  hardly  in  keeping  with 
the  gravity  of  the  occasion,  it  was  re 
jected  as  a  part  of  the  public  exercises 
of  the  commencement.  Anticipating  this 
result,  however,  Daniel  had  provided 
himself,  by  virtue  of  a  basket  of  Spit- 
zenbergs,  with  a  few  stanzas  of  metre, 
entitled  "  An  Ode  on  Ambition,"  which 
were  more  successful.  It  was  written  by 
a  young  gentleman  who  has  since  taken 
several  silver  cups  for  theatrical  prize- 
addresses,  full  of  phoenixes,  and  the 


42  UNIVERSITY   HONORS. 

Greek  classics  from  Lempriere.  He  has 
also  been  a  large  contributor  to  those 
beautifully  printed,  useful,  and  fashion 
able  hebdomadals,  the  Milliners'  Lite 
rary  Gazette,  Young  Ladies'  Compa 
nion,  et  id  genus  omne.  The  ode  ran 
thus : — 

The  warrior  fights,  and  dies  for  fame — 
The  empty  glories  of  a  name ; — 
But  we  who  linger  round  this  spot, 
The  warrior's  guerdon  covet  Nott. 

Nott  for  the  miser's  glittering  heap 
Within  these  walls  is  bartered  sleep  ; 
The  humble  scholar's  quiet  lot 
With  dreams  of  wealth  is  troubled  Nott. 

While  poring  o'er  the  midnight  lamp, 
In  rooms  too  cold,  and  sometimes  damp, 
O  man,  who  land  and  cash  hast  got, 
Thy  life  of  ease  we  envy  Nott. 

Our  troubles  here  are  light  and  few ; — 
An  empty  purse  when  bills  fall  due, 
A  locker,  without  e'er  a  shot, — 
Hard  recitations,  or  a  Knot- 
Ty  problem,  which  we  can't  untie, — 
Our  only  shirt  hung  out  to  dry, — 
A  chum  who  never  pays  his  scot, — 
Such  ills  as  these  we  value  Nott. 


HOWOBTAINED.  43 

O,  cherished  *****  j  learning's  home, 
Where'er  the  fates  may  bid  us  roam, 
Though  friends  and  kindred  be  forgot, 
Be  sure  we  shall  forget  thee  Nott. 

For  years  of  peaceful,  calm  content, 
To  science  and  hard  study  lent, 
Though  others  thy  good  name  may  blot, 
T'were  wondrous  if  we  loved  thee  Nott. 

There  was  a  touch  of  waggery,  if 
not  of  mischief,  in  these  verses,  which 
happened  to  escape  detection  from  the 
faculty,  though  not  very  artfully  con 
cealed.  But  the  terminations  of  the 
stanzas  rendered  the  thing  transparent 
to  the  audience  during  the  delivery,  as 
was  quite  manifest  from  the  general 
movement  of  their  risibles.  But  Wheel 
wright  was  himself  as  ignorant  of  the 
pun  as  the  faculty  were,  until  both 
were  enlightened  the  following  week, 
when  the  real  author  caused  it  to  be 
published  in  the  Oistula  Literaria — an 
interesting  journal,  edited  by  a  com 
mittee  of  the  junior  class — with  a  capital 


44  UNIVERSITY    HONORS. 

"  N"  and  a  superfluous  "  t"  in  the  mono 
syllable  referred  to,  as  it  appears  in  the 
present  memoir.  The  conceit  was  JVott 
thought  a  bad  one,  and  those  who  were 
not  in  the  secret  gave  my  hero  more 
credit  for  his  metrical  skill,  than  he  has 
ever  received  since. 

Thus  borne  along  upon  the  current 
with  his  class,  Wheelwright  was  admit 
ted  ad  gradum  in  artibus — a  certificate 
of  which  fact  he  took  care  to  have  ele 
gantly  filled  out  upon  the  largest  and 
handsomest  scroll  of  parchment  that 
could  be  procured.  It  was  of  course  ve 
rified  by  the  signature  of  the  Reverend 
Prseses,  and  decorated  with  an  enor 
mous  seal,  representing,  very  appropri 
ately  in  the  present  and  many  other  in 
stances  the  Temple  of  Science  perched 
upon  an  inaccessible  hill.  At  the  base  of 
the  hill,  stood  the  goddess  of  Wisdom 
with  her  favorite  bird  (the  owl)  upon 
her  shoulder,  and  pointing  the  attention 


HOW    OBTAINED.  45 

of  young  aspirants  to  its  beetling 
summit.  The  motto  was  "Perseveran- 
tia  omnia  vincit"  a  very  consoling  le 
gend  to  the  numerous  alumni  proceed 
ing  annually  from  this  venerable  uni 
versity. 

With  the  subject  of  this  history,  and 
perhaps  with  many  others  also,  the  puz 
zle  was  to  construe  this  splendid  testi 
monial  for  the  edification  of  his  simple- 
minded  parents,  when  he  came  home 
with  the  burden  of  his  blushing  honors. 
But  in  this  effort  we  question  whether 
he  ever  succeeded.  Indeed  it  has  al 
ways  been  a  grave  matter  of  doubt 
among  philologers,  whether  the  docu 
ment  was  even  capable  of  being  render 
ed  into  English,  in  conformity  with  the 
laws  of  any  language  which  the  human 
race  has  ever  spoken,  since  the  low 
Dutch  and  the  Basque  dispersed  our 
ambitious  ancestors  at  the  building  of 
Babel. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HE    CHOOSES    A    PROFESSION. 

Cl  Here  let  us  breathe,  and  happily  introduce  a  course  of 
learning,  and  ingenious  studies." — Shakspeare. 

"  The  whole  world  cannot  again  prick  out  five  such,  take 
each  one  in  his  vein." — Idem. 

HAVING  thus  completed  his  classical 
studies,  and  come  off,  as  we  have  seen, 
with  the  customary  academic  honors,  the 
next  subject  of  consideration  at  the  do 
mestic  fireside  was  the  choice  of  a  pro 
fession.  His  parents  were  ...not  only con 
scientious  people,  but  sincerely  religious, 
and  really  desirous  of  doing  good.  They 
would,  therefore,  have  preferred  making 
him  a  clergyman,  had  he  given  evidence 
of  piety.  But  such  was  not  the  fact. 
He  was  truly  amiable  in  his  disposition, 
of  grave  and  quiet  manners,  and  of 
sound  morality.  Still,  they  could  not 
think  of  thrusting  their  son  into  the 


HE    CHOOSES     A     PROFESSION.        47 

sacerdotal  office,  as  is   oftentimes  the 
practice  with  regard  to  younger  sons  in 
foreign  parts,  merely  as  a  trade  to  get  a 
living  by,  while  the  head  only  is  engaged 
in  the  work,  and  the  heart  has  neither 
part  nor  lot  in  the  matter.     Some  other 
profession  w^as  therefore  necessary ;  and 
as  his  good   parents   were  religiously 
opposed  to  the  quarrelsome  profession 
of  the  law,  the  choice  was  necessarily 
directed  to  that  of  medicine.  In  the  se 
quel  it  will  be  seen,  that,  let  people  be 
ever  so  conscientious,  they  are  obnox 
ious  to  great  errors  in  the  education  of 
their  children,  and  equally  liable  with 
others  to  err  in  the  selection  of  that 
walk  of  life,    or  profession,  for  which 
they  are  least  adapted  by  character  or 
capacity. 

But  to  proceed.  Law  and  divinity 
being  out  of  the  question,  it  was  re 
solved,  in  family  council,  that  Daniel 


48         HE    CHOOSES    A    PROFESSION. 

should  become  a  disciple  of  Galen,  and 
acquire  the  art  of  compounding  simples, 
and  healing  the  various  diseases  which 
flesh  is  heir  to.  He  was  accordingly 
entered  in  the  office  of  an  eminent  me 
dical  gentleman,  in  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  cities  which  adorn  the  banks 
of  the  majestic  Hudson.  I  will  not  be 
so  particular  as  to  name  the  place,  lest 
other  towns  should  be  moved  to  jea 
lousy.  Each  of  the  seven  cities  that 
contended  for  the  honor  of  giving  birth 
to  Homer,  was  as  well  off  as  though 
each  was  actually  entitled  to  it — 
whereas,  had  the  point  been  settled,  six 
of  them  would  not  have  been  worth 
living  in,  rent-free.  There  is  another 
reason  for  not  being  too  particular. 
Although,  unlike  Byron,  I  have  no  fear 
of  being  taken  for  the  hero  of  my  own 
tale,  yet  were  I  to  bring  matters  too 
near  their  homes,  but  too  many  of  the 


HE    CHOOSES    A     PROFESSION.       49 

real  characters  of  my  narrative  might 
be  identified.  Suffice  it,  then,  to  say  of 
the  location — Ilium  fuit! 

Immediately  after  his  induction  into 
the  office  of  his  JEsculapian  Mentor, 
Daniel  became  DOCTOR  WHEELWRIGHT — 
and  through  all  the  subsequent  vicissi 
tudes  of  his  life,  and  all  the  changes  of 
his  pursuits,  and  they  have  neither  been 
few  nor  unimportant,  the  title  has 
adhered  to  him  until  this  day. 

I  have  already  said  that  his  per 
sonal  appearance  was  good,  a  circum 
stance  which  of  course  was  not  at  all 
to  his  disadvantage.  His  first  business 
in  his  new  station,  was  the  selection  of 
a  genteel  boarding-house,  the  purchase 
of  a  new  and  fashionable  suit  of  clothes, 
and  a  snuff-box.  Ever  partial  to  the 
society  of  ladies,  he  was  assiduous  in  his 
efforts  to  cultivate  their  acquaintance, 
especially  of  those  among  them  who 
were  of  a  literary  turn.  Chief  of  the 
5 


50      HE    CHOOSES     A     PROFESSION. 

female  literati  of  the  town,  was  a  lady 
of  no  certain  age,  but  of  great  pre 
tensions,  whose  hose  were  deeply 
azure.  With  her  he  became  quite  inti 
mate,  and  she  found  his  services  parti 
cularly  convenient,  in  sending  to  the 
circulating  library  for  books,  and  in 
other  respects  in  which  it  was  found 
he  could  render  himself  useful ;  and  he 
in  turn  was  never  more  truly  happy 
than  when  obeying  the  behests  of  a 
blue  of  such  celebrity.  These  preli 
minary  arrangements  occupied  about 
three  or  four  months  of  the  first  year, 
during  which  he  could  of  course  have 
but  little  time  to  attend  to  his  books. 
He  did,  however,  make  a  beginning ; 
but  mental  application  was  no  easier 
now,  than  when  in  college,  and  he 
had  moreover  succeeded  in  forming  ac 
quaintances  in  a  larger  and  more  at 
tractive  circle  than  was  to  be  found 
within  and  about  the  college  walls.  It 


HE     CHOOSES     A     PROFESSION.       51 

required  the  greater  portions  of  his 
mornings  to  keep  alive  these  acquaint 
ances  ;  and  every  body  knows  it  is  no 
time  for  hard  study  after  a  hearty  din 
ner — of  which,  particularly  if  it  were 
good,  few  were  more  fond  than  "  Doc 
tor  Wheelwright."  Thus  the  first  year 
found  him  scarcely  at  the  close  of  the 
first  chapter  of  Cheselden's  Anatomy. 

An  attendance  upon  the  lectures  of 
some  regular  medical  college  was  of 
course  essential  to  a  thorough  profes 
sional  education,  and  his  father  had 
now  become  ambitious  of  doing  the  best 
for  a  son  upon  whom  he  began  to 
look  as  a  young  man  of  high  promise. 
Every  where  he  was  now  spoken  of  as 
"young  Doctor  Wheelwright;"  and  there 
was  something  gratifying  to  a  parent's 
ear  in  that.  He  was  therefore  sent  to 
New-York  to  hear  the  instructive  elo 
quence  of  Hosack ;  the  wise  and  prudent 
counsels  of  Post ;  to  press  into  his  gob- 


52       HE     CHOOSES     A     PROFESSION. 

let  the  grapes  of  wisdom  clustering 
around  the  tongue  of  Mitchill;  and  to 
acquire  the  principles  of  surgery  from 
the  lips,  and  the  skilful  use  of  the 
knife  from  the  untrembling  hand,  of 
Mott.  Tickets  were  procured  for  all 
the  regular  courses  of  the  college  lec 
tures,  all  of  which  were  attended  with 
out  intermission,  and  most  of  them  slept 
over  without  compunction.  The  truth 
is,  that  neither  medical  authors,  nor  me 
dical  orations  had  any  congeniality  with 
his  feelings.  His  love  for  science  could 
not  conquer  his  aversion  to  the  dissect 
ing-room,  and  he  greatly  preferred  tak 
ing  care  of  the  body  as  he  found  it,  to  the 
labor  of  ascertaining  how  it  was  made; 
—he  liked  well  to  have  the  springs  and 
wheels  of  his  own  frame  in  easy  and  ac 
curate  motion,  but  cared  not  to  exam 
ine  the  delicate  structure  of  the  com 
plicated  machinery.  The  consequence 
was,  that  when  not  in  the  lecture-room 


HE    CHOOSES    A     PROFESSION.       53 

his  time  was  occupied — not  with  his 
books,  but  in  lion-hunting.  He  visited 
the  theatre  when  Cooper,  and  Pritchard, 
and  Mrs.  Darley,  were  in  their  glory ; 
lounged  frequent  hours  in  the  museums; 
and  was  the  first  to  run  after  every  new 
attraction  placarded  at  the  corners.  He 
was  greatly  taken  with  the  agility  of  an 
Armenian  girl,  upon  the  wire  and  slack- 
rope,  who  was  in  truth  a  second  Fenel- 
la  in  the  sprightliness  of  her  nimble  ex 
hibitions.  Day  Francis,  the  conjuror, 
was  his  admiration.  He  was  delighted 
with  Rannie,  the  old  ventriloquist,  and 
the  first  in  America;  and  Potter,  the  late 
sable  and  celebrated  professor  of  leger 
demain,  in  slight-of-hand,  he  thought 
actually  excelled  Doctor  Mott  himself. 
At  the  close  of  the  term  he  returned 
to  the  country,  and  resumed  Cheselden. 
But  he  yet  preferred  the  society  of  the 
ladies — accompanying  them  in  their 
morning  walks,  and  at  their  evening 

5* 


54       HE     CHOOSES     A     PROFESSION. 

parties.  And  with  them  all  he  was  a 
favrorite — of  a  particular  description. 
Full  of  good  nature — easy  and  ac 
commodating  in  his  disposition,  ever 
ready  to  oblige,  when  any  of  the  fair 
were  in  distress  for  a  beau,  he  could 
always  be  had,  and  even  felt  honored 
to  be  called  upon  such  service,  when  it 
was  not  desirable  to  take  such  a  lib 
erty  with  gallants  of  a  different  cast 
and  temperament.  Especially  were 
his  services  of  value  at  parties,  where 
exigencies  of  a  particular  description 
were  likely  to  occur — as,  when  some 
not  very  popular  damsel  lived  at  the 
farthermost  end  of  the  town ;  or  in 
such  other  undefinable  cases  as  might 
result  in  the  danger  of  some  forlorn 
maidens  being  left,  after  the  whips  and 
blanc-manges  were  disposed  of,  to  per 
form  the  homeward  pilgrimage  on  foot 
and  alone — as  the  girl  went  to  get  mar 
ried. 


HE     CHOOSES     A     PROFESSION.       55 

But  the  beau  and  the  student  are 
different  animals;  and  at  the  close  of 
the  second  year,  the  young  doctor  had 
only  half  completed  Cheselden's  article 
on  Osteology.  It  began  now  to  be 
evident  that  at  this  rate  he  would  never 
become  an  M.D.,  easily  as  this  honor  is 
obtained ;  and  it  was  equally  doubtful 
whether  the  most  complaisant  censors 
of  a  medical  society,  would,  at  the  end 
of  three  years,  admit  him  to  practice. 
The  distinguished  medical  gentleman 
with  whom  he  was  attempting  to  play 
the  student,  saw  that  if  Harvey  had  not 
discovered  the  theory  of  the  circulation 
of  the  blood,  Doctor  Wheelwright  cer 
tainly  would  never  have  made  it,  and 
he  hinted  to  his  pupil  in  as  delicate  a 
manner  as  possible,  that  even  if  he  had 
been  cut  out  by  nature  for  a  physician, 
he  had  been  spoiled  in  the  making  up. 
My  friend  was  by  this  time  quite  of  the 
same  opinion  himself;  and  he  thereupon 


56       HE     CHOOSES     A     PROFESSION. 

quitted  the  profession,  with  no  more 
medical  knowledge  than  the  art  of 
mixing  suitable  portions  of  salts  and 
senna  for  children,  and  the  preparation 
of  cough-drops,  by  compounding  the 
syrup  of  squills  with  paregoric  and 
balsam  of  honey  in  equal  proportions — 
which  mixture,  by  the  way,  is  the 
best  prescription  to  be  found  in  the  Vade 
Mecum  of  any  physician  in  Christen 
dom — from  Sir  Astley  Cooper  down  to 
Hahnnemann,  of  all  medical  humbugs 
the  chief.  Would  that  Daniel  Wheel 
wright  were  the  only  person  who  has 
trifled  away  the  misapplied  money  of 
industrious  and  misjudging  parents  ! 


CHAPTER   VI. 

HOW  HE    BECAME   A   MERCHAN  T A  N  D    T  H  E 

RESULT. 


Now  I  play  a  merchant's  part, 


And  venture  madly  on  a  desperate  mart." — Shakspeare. 
"A  man  whom  Fortune  hath  cruelly  scratched."— Idem. 

HAVING  thu  s"  thrown  physic  to  the 
dogs,"  the  next  important  subject  of 
consideration  was  the  choice  of  some 
new  occupation  or  pursuit,  not  of  a  pro 
fessional  character.  His  mother's  pro 
ject  of  making  him  a  clergyman  had 
been  previously  rejected,  as  stated  in 
a  former  chapter.  The  decision  might 
have  been  otherwise  had  the  lot  of  our 
hero  been  cast  in  England,  where  the 
minor  clergy  of  the  establishment  pur 
chase  their  sermons  already  written 
to  their  hands,  if  they  are  able,  or  copy 
them  from  the  moral  essays  of  Doctor 
Johnson,  or  the  more  devotional  writ* 
ings  of  Hannah  More,  according  to  their 


58  HOW      HE      BECAME 

tastes  and  feelings,  if  they  are  not. 
But  such  easy  methods  of  pulpit  prepa 
ration  are  not  tolerated  in  this  country, 
unless  in  respect  of  the  youngest  eccle 
siastics  ;  and  even  they  are  compelled 
to  be  exceedingly  chary  in  the  use  even 
of  the  printed  skeletons  to  be  found  in 
most  Episcopal  libraries — not  ventur 
ing  to  let  their  people  know  of  the  ex 
istence  of  such  "helps,"  much  less  that 
they  are  in  the  habit  of  cutting  out  their 
sermons  by  such  patterns.  Moreover, 
as  for  the  preaching  of  other  men's  ser 
mons  outright,  the  Americans  are  such 
a  reading  people,  that  the  detection  of 
borrowed  "  thunder,"  is  almost  certain 
to  follow  its  use.  An  instance  in  point 
was  then  fresh  in  the  public  mind,  in 
which  one  of  the  most  eloquent  and 
popular  pulpit  orators  in  the  land,  had 
been  arraigned  before  an  ecclesiastical 
tribunal,  on  the  charge  of  appropriating 
ad  libitum  to  his  own  use  and  the 


A     MERCHANT.  5 

behoof  of  his  congregation  the  works 
of  Barrow  and  Jeremy  Taylor,  Flavel 
and  Massillon,  Toplady  and  Tillotson. 
True,  the  depredator  was  endowed  with 
powers  of  eloquence  worthy  of  the 
great  masters  whose  sermons  he  had 
the  good  taste  to  prefer  to  his  own — 
delivering  their  breathing  thoughts  and 
burning  words,  with  a  deep-toned  so 
lemnity,  and  a  splendor  of  elocution, 
which  thrilled  the  bosoms,  and  alter 
nately  charmed  the  minds,  and  melted 
the  hearts,  of  his  devotional  hearers. 
But  the  disguise  of  manner  was  not  suf 
ficient.  There  were  those  of  his  con 
gregation  who  had  read  and  remem 
bered  the  works  with  which  he  was 
making  so  free;  and  although  they 
were  by  no  means  the  losers  by  the  sub 
stitution  of  the  kindling  periods  of  the 
sound  old  divines  for  his  own,  yet  the 
late  Rev.  Mr.  Hooper  soon  found  him 
self  under  the  discipline  of  his  clerical 


60  HOW      HE      BECAME 

superiors.  Shut  out,  therefore,  from 
the  pulpit,  my  friend  Wheelwright  had 
turned  his  attention  to  medicine,  as 
being  in  his  apprehension  the  next  ea 
siest  of  the  learned  professions;  and  now 
that  he  had  relinquished  the  healing  art, 
because  he  possessed  neither  the  indus 
try  nor  the  capacity  for  acquiring  it, 
some  other  method  of  earning  a  subsis 
tence  seemed  to  be  necessary.  Should 
it  be  the  law  ?  His  resolution  would 
have  deserted  him  at  the  thought  of 
mastering  even  the  elementary  treatises 
of  Blackstone,  and  the  sight  of  an  ordi 
nary  law  library  would  have  appalled 
him.  But  employment  he  must  have. 
He  had  cultivated  a  taste  for  style, 
and  ease,  and  luxury,  which  it  would 
require  no  inconsiderable  means  to  in 
dulge.  He  desired  to  cut  a  figure  in 
the  world,  and  to  make  money  that 
he  might  do  so ;  and  he  was  anxious 
withal  to  select  that  occupation  with 


A     MERCHANT.  61 

which  he  might  personally  be  the 
least  occupied — in  which  he  might 
indulge  his  inactive  propensities  with 
the  least  corporeal  exertion — and  by 
which  he  might  realize  the  greatest 
profit.  After  duly  weighing  matters, 
therefore,  and  balancing  the  various 
considerations  that  occurred,  with  all 
appropriate  gravity,  he  determined  to 
engage  in  merchandise — a  branch  of  bu 
siness  for  which  of  all  men  he  possessed 
the  least  possible  fitness.  His  worthy 
parents,  moreover,  were  thereunto  con 
senting.  Fond  and  unhappy  people ! 
They  had  never  read  the  splendid  phi 
lippic  of  Burke  against  the  mercantile 
character,  in  which  the  indignant  sena 
tor  denounced  the  members  of  that 
enterprising  occupation  as  having  no 
altar  but  their  counter,  no  Bible  but 
their  leger,  and  no  God  but  their  gold ! 
Nor,  (being  neither  prophets  nor  de 
scendants  of  prophets,)  could  they  fore- 
6 


62  AMERCHANT, 

see  that  another  Burke  was  soon  to 
illuminate  this  occidental  hemisphere, 
by  the  hlaze  of  his  genius, — embodying 
in  his  own  person  half  the  wisdom  of 
the  whole  nation  of  Rhode  Island, — 
who  should  revive  and  indorse  the 
dictum  of  the  florid  British  rhetorician, 
and  fix  upon  the  name  of  the  American 
merchant  as  fact,  the  fancy  sketch  first 
drawn  by  a  brilliant  but  libellous  ima 
gination  !  Had  it  been  otherwise,  I  am 
sure  my  friend  would  have  been  spared 
the  toils  and  perplexities  incident  alike 
to  the  mercantile  calling,  whether  deal 
ing  in  foreign  commerce  by  millions,  or 
vending  tape  and  buckram  by  the  yard 
in  Chatham-street  or  Albany. 

But  it  was  written  that  Daniel  was 
to  be  a  merchant ;  and  an  opportunity 
was  soon  presented  for  purchasing  the 
odds  and  ends  of  a  fashionable  fancy 
and  jobbing  concern  in  Albany.  His 
father,  moreover,  who  had  by  this  time 


AND     THE      RESULT.  63 

accumulated  a  snug  property  by  his  own 
honest  calling — who  knew  little  of  the 
perils  of  the  mercantile  business,  and  still 
less  of  the  skill  and  attention  necessary 
for  its  successful  prosecution,  consented 
in  an  evil  hour  to  become  his  indorser. 
The  chief  clerk  of  the  concern,  a  young 
man  by  the  name  of  John  Smith,  was 
continued  in  the  establishment ;  new 
goods  were  bought  in  New- York  in 
most  enterprising  quantities;  and  al 
though  both  old  and  new  were  pur 
chased  at  no  small  disadvantage,  yet 
a  plausible  exterior,  and  a  fair  credit, 
enabled  Mr.  Wheelwright  to  drive  a 
brisk,  and,  as  he  no  doubt  honestly 
thought,  a  thriving  business.  It  was 
indeed  true  that  the  return  of  every 
six  months  found  him  somewhat  deeper 
in  debt.  He  was  obliged  to  fill  up  the 
blanks  in  the  notes  which  his  kind 
parent  had  indorsed  in  advance,  and 
by  the  quantity,  for  larger  and  yet 


64  A    MERCHANT, 

larger  sums,  and  occasionally  to  ask  the 
name  of  some  other  friend,  "just  for 
form's  sake,"  under  that  of  his  father. 
But  his  faithful  clerk  assured  him  that 
his  capital  was  increasing,  as  the 
books  would  show,  and  that  every 
thing  was  going  on  swimmingly.  He 
took  lodgings  at  the  Tontine,  like  a 
gentleman  of  means;  was  free  and 
liberal  in  his  expenditures;  invited  his 
friends  often  to  suppers  of  game  and 
oysters,  which  invitations  were  but 
too  often  accepted ;— and  as  he  knew 
nothing  of  his  own  business,  but  conti 
nued  to  repose  all  confidence  in  his 
chief  clerk — taking  his  assurances  that 
all  was  well, — he  supposed  it  was  so, 
and  began  to  fancy  that  he  was  actually 
becoming  rich.  It  had  ever  been  a 
common  saying  in  his  mouth,  that  "  the 
world  owed  him  a  living,"  and  he  now 
verily  believed  that  he  had  taken  the 
wave  of  fortune  at  its  flood,  and  was 


AND    THE    RESULT.  65 

floating  along  triumphantly  upon  the 
spring-tide  of  wealth.  Nor  was  he  un 
deceived  until  the  disclosure  was  too 
late  for  the  salvation  of  his  credit.  His 
notes  began  to  come  round  too  fast  to 
be  promptly  "  lifted ;"  and  just  at  the 
moment  when  a  portion  of  his  increased 
capital  would  have  been  exceedingly 
convenient,  greatly  to  his  surprise  he 
was  unable  to  find  even  that  with  which 
he  had  commenced.  The  consequence 
was  frequent  visits  from  the  notary ;  and 
his  indorsers  began  occasionally  to  re 
ceive  an  unceremonious  call  from  those 
officious  legal  gentlemen,  Messrs.  John 
Doe  and  Richard  Roe. 

At  this  stage  of  his  unpromising 
mercantile  career,  the  approaching 
catastrophe  was  hastened  by  a  very 
grievous  and  untoward  event.  After 
having  despatched  a  duck  and  a  dozen 
of  oysters  at  Bement's,  he  had  scarcely 
composed  himself  to  sleep  before  he 
6* 


66  A    MERCHANT, 

was  aroused  by  an  alarm  of  fire,  and 
astounded  by  the  vociferations  of  a 
watchman  under  the  window,  who 
thundered  in  his  ears  that  it  was  his 
own  store  that  was  now  illuminating 
the  venerable  Dutch  capital !  Not  an 
article  escaped  the  ravages  of  "the 
devouring  element,"  to  quote  the  news 
paper  account  of  the  following  morning ; 
and  what  was  more  melancholy  still, 
his  faithful  clerk,  who  always  slept  in 
the  store,  was  for  the  moment  supposed 
to  have  perished  in  the  flames  !  Morn 
ing  came,  however,  and  lo !  Mr.  John 
Smith,  junior,  was  seen  to  emerge  from 
the  portal  of  a  house,  the  fame  whereof 
was  no  better  than  it  should  have  been — 
it  being  none  other  than  one  of  those 
places  of  which  the  wise  man  would 
have  said,  "  the  dead  are  there,"  and 
"  the  guests  in  the  depths  of  hell." 

The  residue  of  this  section  of  Mr. 
Wheelwright's  biography  is  soon  told. 


AND   THE   RESULT.  67 

With  the  flames  of  his  store,  were  his 
fortunes  for  the  time  being  extinguished; 
and  his  father  soon  afterward  found 
himself  to  be  as  destitute  of  property 
as  when  he  first  entered  the  valley  of 
the  Mohawk,  with  only  an  adz,  a  pod- 
auger,  and  an  axe  upon  his  shoulder. 
The  trusty  clerk  soon  afterward  sick 
ened,  even  unto  death,  and  in  his  last 
moments  disclosed  various  delinquen 
cies  which  had  hastened  his  employer's 
ruin ; — for  all  of  which  he  was  readily 
forgiven  by  the  really  kind-hearted  man 
whom  he  had  so  deeply  wronged,  and 
from  his  penitence  it  is  to  be  hoped  he 
was  also  forgiven  by  Him  against  whom 
he  had  yet  more  grievously  sinned. 

The  merchants  of  New- York  are 
proverbially  liberal  to  unfortunate  debt 
ors  ;  the  tale  of  Mr.  Wheelwright's 
misfortunes  excited  their  lively  sympa 
thies  ;  and  they  generously  released  him 
from  all  those  obligations  which  neither 


68  A     MERCHANT,    ETC. 

he  nor  his  indorsers  could  pay.  And 
thus  amid  the  frowns  of  adversity  ended 
the  mercantile  career  of  the  subject  of 
this  memoir. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

HOW   FORTUNE  AGAIN    SMILED,  AND  THEN 
FROWNED    UPON    HIM. 


Fortune  is  merry, 


And  in  this  mood  will  give  us  any  thing." — Shakspeare. 

11  Full  oft  'tis  seen  our  mere  defects 
Prove  our  commodities." — Idem. 

"j — A  motley  company, 

Blacklegs,  and  thieves,  and  would-be  gentlemen." — Idem. 

"  The  lottery  of  my  destiny  bars  me  the  right  of  voluntary 
choosing." — Idem. 

THE  succeeding  stage  in  the  life  of 
my  hero  and  friend,  was  marked  by  no 
very  striking  or  extraordinary  event;  but 
the  incidents  attending  it  were  never 
theless  quite  characteristic  of  his  vary 
ing  fortunes.  It  so  happened  that  in  ad 
justing  the  results  of  his  mercantile  expe 
riment,  Mr.  Wheelwright  became  pos 
sessed  of  a  questionable  claim  upon  the 
government,  for  property  said  to  have 
been  destroyed  by  the  enemy  on  the 
northern  frontier,  during  the  late  war 


70 

with  Great  Britain.  It  came  into  his 
hands  by  way  of  satisfaction  for  a  debt 
due  from  a  country  merchant ;  and  al 
though  the  chances  were  as  twenty  to 
one,  either  that  it  had  already  been  paid, 
or  that  it  had  no  existence  in  equity,  or 
that  even  if  ever  so  just,  like  the  claim  for 
Amy  Dardin's  celebrated  blood-horse, 
the  period  of  two  generations  would  be 
consumed  in  petitioning  for  relief,  yet 
he  determined  forthwith  to  proceed  to 
the  federal  capital,  and  prosecute  his 
suit  before  the  august  majesty  of  the 
people  in  congress  assembled.  What 
with  boats  taken  by  General  Wilkin 
son  for  the  public  service,  in  his  memo 
rable  descent  of  the  St.  Lawrence, — 
for  the  purpose,  among  other  things,  of 
celebrating  Christmas  in  Montreal — a 
festival,  by  the  way,  which  an  obstinate 
enemy  would  not  allow  him  to  keep 
there, — and  buildings  so  effectually 
destroyed  during  an  irruption  of  the 


AND     FROWNS.  71 

British  across  the  lines,  that  their  sites 
have  never  been  discovered  to  this 
day, — all  duly  set  forth  in  the  papers 
with  which  he  was  furnished, — Mr. 
Wheelwright  presented  a  claim,  respect 
able  in  amount,  which  was  referred  to 
the  proper  committee  of  the  "  collective 
wisdom."  The  hawk-eyed  Whittle- 
sey  was  not  then  its  chairman.  In 
process  of  time,  therefore,  the  com 
mittee  reported  in  his  favor ;  and,  in  the 
end,  to  the  astonishment  of  every  body, 
he  succeeded  in  obtaining  it !  How,  or 
by  what  artful  appliances,  he  became 
thus  successful, — and  that,  too,  during 
the  first  session, — I  have  never  been 
clearly  informed.  It  was,  however,  a 
winter  of  great  activity  and  excitement 
at  Washington.  A  distinguished  "  mili 
tary  chieftain,"  flushed  with  the  pride 
of  victory,  and  crowned  with  Indian 
laurels,  had  suddenly  appeared  in  the 
capital,  to  defend  himself  against 


72 

charges  preferred  by  the  legislative 
authorities  of  the  nation, — authorities, 
which  he  openly  derided,  and  threat 
ened  to  beard  in  their  own  council- 
chambers  ; — and  it  is  not  unlikely  that 
while  some  of  the  members  were 
engaged  in  studying  the  arts  of  self- 
defence,  and  others  holding  with  both 
hands  upon  the  ears  that  had  been 
openly  threatened,  the  bill  for  the 
liquidation  and  payment  of  Mr.  Wheel 
wright's  claims,  was  passed  in  the  alarm 
and  confusion,  without  observation.  It 
is  not  impossible,  moreover,  that  as  the 
claimant  had  resided  at  Albany,  and  as 
the  Albanian  tactics  had  not  then  been 
introduced  into  Washington,  he  might 
have  tried  his  hand  at  some  of  those 
ingenious  devices,  of  the  successful  ope 
ration  of  which  he  had  been  the  silent 
witness  in  the  pure  and  incorruptible 
capital  of  the  empire  state. 

Be  all  these  matters,  however,  as 


ANDFROWNS.  73 

they  may,  it  is  certain  that  he  succeed 
ed  in  his  application  beyond  the  most 
sanguine  expectations  alike  of  himself 
and  his  friends.  Thus  far,  therefore,  all 
was  well ;  a  brighter  prospect  seemed 
to  dawn  upon  his  fortunes ;  and  all 
would  probably  have  continued  well, 
had  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  capital 
the  day  after  receiving  the  auditor's 
warrant  upon  the  treasury,  and  hasten 
ed  home.  But  the  President's  levees 
were  about  opening  for  the  season ;  and 
two  or  three  of  those  most  insufferable 
of  all  coxcombs,  the  attaches  of  foreign 
embassies, — whisking  their  dandy  rat 
tans  and  sporting  finely  curled  mus- 
tachoes; — who,  to  his  unsophisticated 
observation,  appeared  to  be  men  of  far 
greater  importance  than  their  less-pre 
tending  diplomatic  masters, — and  who 
not  unfrequently  shared  oysters  with 
him  during  the  day  at  Laturno's,  and 
canvass-backs  and  champagne  at  O'- 

7 


74 

Neal's  by  night, — persuaded  him  to  re 
main  a  few  weeks  longer, — not  much 
to  the  advantage  of  his  exchequer,  as 
may  well  be  supposed.  Still,  as  he 
was  not  a  gambler,  and  was  withal  a 
moral  man,  no  great  inroad  upon  his 
purse  would  have  resulted  from  a  few 
entertainments  thus  bestowed  upon  his 
sponging  acquaintances, — who,  as  he 
really  supposed,  were  reversing  the 
order  of  the  obligation,  by  the  light  and 
flashy  touches  they  gave  him  of  high  life 
in  Europe, — relating,  with  great  par 
ticularity,  their  adventures  in  France, — 
dining  with  the  Dukes  of  Chartres  and 
Angouleme,  and  attending  the  opera 
with  the  Duke  of  Berry  and  the  Coun 
tess  de  Chausel, — visiting  Rome  with 
the  grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  and  flirt 
ing  with  the  Countess  Guiccioli,  in  the 
absence  of  Lord  Byron, — engaged  in 
the  chase  with  the  Percies  of  Northum 
berland,  or  at  Almack's,  with  the  Mar- 


AND      FROWNS.  75 

chioness  of  Conyngham, — all  of  which 
apocryphal  incidents  and  adventures 
my  simple-minded  friend  received  as 
sober  verity,  and  felt  himself  exceed 
ingly  edified  thereby. 

The  result  was,  that  Wheelwright 
whiled  away  the  whole  winter  in 
Washington  ;  and  it  was  a  marvel,  that 
what  between  the  mid-day  dissipation 
at  Laturno's — that  unhallowed  den  in 
the  base  of  the  capitol,  which  has 
proved  the  grave  of  so  many  reputa 
tions, — and  the  suppers  at  Brown's  and 
O'Neal's,  he  did  not  quite  use  himself 
up.  But  he  escaped  in  those  respects ; 
and  notwithstanding  his  natural  indif 
ference  to  public  and  intellectual  mat 
ters,  he  actually  became  not  a  little 
interested  in  the  great  debates  on  the 
Seminole  war,  and  the  conduct  of  the 
comrrwinder  who  had  conducted  it  ac 
cording  to  law  "  as  he  understood  it." 

It  was  during  these  interesting  pro- 


76 

ceedings  that  Mr.  Wheelwright  most 
unluckily  formed  two  other  acquaint 
ances,  in  the  persons  of  a  clever  and 
plausible  lottery-broker  at  Washington, 
the  author  of  the  celebrated  parody  of 
"  Hail  to  the  Chief/'  beginning— 

••  All  hail  to  Ben  Tyler,  who  sells  all  the  prizes,"  &c. 

and  the  chief  manager  of  the  mem 
orable  Washington  Monument  Lot 
tery.  Both  were  acute,  and  the  man 
ager  no  less  plausible  than  the  vender ; 
— and  the  easy  good  nature  of  Mr. 
Wheelwright,  who  was  not  a  little 
credulous  withal,  pointed  him  out  as 
a  person  whose  pockets  would  not 
be  of  difficult  access.  It  is  not  neces 
sary  to  descend  minutely  into  partic 
ulars  in  this  place.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  the  next  ensuing  scheme  of  the 
lottery  promised  a  capital  prize  of  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  besides  one 
of  thirty  thousand,  another  of  twenty, 


ANDFROWNS.  77 

with  the  customary  lots  of  smaller 
ones ;  and  as  my  hero  had  yet  a  linger 
ing  attachment  to  "CIRCLES,"  he  was 
very  soon  persuaded  to  mount  upon  the 
wheel  of  Fortune.  Every  body  has 
heard  of  the  honest  Hibernian,  who,  in 
order  to  ensure  the  highest  prize,  deter 
mined  to  purchase  the  whole  lottery ; 
and  although  Mr.  Wheelwright  did  not 
exactly  form  the  same  resolve,  yet  he 
understood  enough  of  the  doctrine  of 
chances,  to  know,  that  the  more  tickets 
he  possessed,  the  greater  his  number 
of  chances  of  obtaining  the  splendid 
capital  he  was  seeking, — he  stopped  not 
to  reflect  that  the  odds  were  two  to  one 
against  him  for  any  thing,  even  the 
smallest  prize,  and  twenty-nine  thou 
sand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
to  one  against  him  for  the  great  prize, 
besides  the  discount  of  fifteen  per 
centum  on  the  whole. 

Forgetting  these  trifling  drawbacks, 


78 

therefore,  he  invested  the  whole  of  his 
revenues  in  the  aforesaid  lottery;  and 
from  that  day  until  the  drawing  thereof, 
he  lived  upon  the  brightest  hopes.  The 
golden  shower  of  the  heathen  poets,  in 
which  Jove  once  descended,  was  but  a 
little  sprinkle,  in  comparison  with  the 
river  of  that  precious  metal,  soon  to 
flow  into  his  coffers.  But  alas !  the 
goddess,  being  blind,  not  only  failed 
to  discern  his  peculiar  claims  upon  her 
regard,  but  was  cheated  herself!  A 
shrewd  Virginian  dreamed  the  ticket 
which  drew  the  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  into  his  own  pocket ;  the  ma 
nager  failed,  and  thereby  turned  all  the 
prizes  into  blanks; — and  Mr.  Daniel 
Wheelwright  found  himself  flat  on  his 
back,  at  the  bottom  of  the  wheel,  when 
he  least  anticipated  such  a  downfall. 
He  was  therefore,  on  his  return  to 
New- York,  again  in  the  condition  of 
Bob  Logic,  "  with  pockets  to  let" — or 


ANDFROWNS.  79 

perchance  of  the  poor  Yankee,  who 
complained,  not  without  reason,  that 
with  him  there  were  five  OUTS  to  one  IN, 
viz  :  out  of  money,  and  out  of  clothes ; 
out  at  the  heels,  and  out  at  the  toes ; 
out  of  credit,  and  in  debt ! 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

HOW    AN   HONEST    MAN   MAY   GET   INTO 
LIMB  O. 

"And  as  for  the  Bastile,— the  terror  is  in  the  word.— Make 
the  most  of  it  you  can,  said  I  to  myself,  the  Bastile  is  but 
another  word  for  a  tower ; — and  a  tower  is  but  another  word 
for  a  house  you  can't  get  out  of." — Sterne. 

A  STRANGER  in  New-York,  and  even 
many  of  its  younger  citizens,  would 
hardly  suppose,  from  the  present  ap 
pearance  of  the  handsome  Ionic  temple 
standing  directly  east  of  the  City  Hall, 
for  what  "  base  uses"  that  classic  edifice 
was  originally  built,  or  for  what  ignoble 
purposes  it  was  kept,  until  within  a  few 
years  back.  Although  it  may  now  be 
justly  considered  one  of  the  most  cor 
rect  and  pleasing  specimens  of  archi 
tecture  in  the  union,  yet,  until  the  recent 
transformation  of  its  outward  form  and 
proportions,  it  was  one  of  the  most  un- 


AN     HONEST     MAN,     ETC.  81 

sightly  of  buildings.  It  was  not,  how 
ever,  of  republican  origin — having  been 
erected  early  in  the  reign  of  his  late 
most  excellent  Majesty,  King  George 
the  Third,  as  a  place  of  confinement 
for  such  of  his  refractory  subjects  as 
either  could  not,  or  would  not,  pay  their 
debts.  And  it  is  no  great  credit  to  his 
Majesty's  successors  in  the  government, 
that  it  should  not  have  been  appropri 
ated  to  some  other  use  at  a  much  earlier 
day.  Long  did  the  citizens  of  New- 
York  petition  for  its  removal  or  destruc 
tion,  but  in  vain, — until,  "  in  the  course 
of  human  events,"  the  public  service 
demanded  an  additional  edifice  as  a 
depository  for  its  records.  A  change 
from  the  Boeotian  to  the  Ionic  order, 
and  its  conversion  to  a  more  humane 
purpose,  were  then  determined  upon, 
not  only  for  the  public  convenience,  but 
from  motives  of  economy.  One  of  the 
patriotic  members  of  the  city  govern- 


82  ANHONESTMAN 

ment,  distinguished  for  his  enterprise, 
and  his  public  spirit,  undertook  the  job, 
and  gave  to  the  ancient  walls  of  un 
hewn  stone  their  existing  "  form  and 
pressure ;" — at  an  amount,  too,  not 
much  exceeding,  probably,  twice  the 
cost  of  two  new  buildings  of  the  same 
dimensions. 

Architecture  is  one  of  the  crowning 
glories  of  a  city;  and  nothing  more 
strongly  indicates  the  cultivation  of  a 
people,  than  refinement  in  this  beautiful 
department  of  science.  "  Order  is  the 
first  law  of  nature,"  and  the  utter  dis 
regard  hitherto  paid  to  all  established 
orders  of  architecture  in  this  country, 
is  one  reason,  probably,  that  we  have 
become  such  a  disorderly  people.  The 
taste  of  the  Greeks  in  the  arts  has 
contributed  more  to  their  glory  than 
their  deeds  in  arms.  The  chisel  of 
Phidias  carved  for  him  a  name  of  more 
true  renown,  than  the  sword  did  for 


INLIMBO.  83 

Alexander ;  and  the  name  of  Sir  Chris 
topher  Wren  will  live  as  long  in  En 
glish  history  as  the  Duke  of  Welling 
ton's.  Every  patriotic  Gothamite,  there 
fore,  should  rejoice  at  each  successive 
indication  of  an  improvement  in  archi 
tectural  taste  amongst  us.  Who  knows 
but  the  beauty  of  the  new  commercial 
exchange  that  is  to  be,  will  cause  glad 
ness  to  those  who  wept  alike  over  the 
ugliness  and  the  destruction  of  the  old  ! 
Who  knows  but  that  a  grinning  popu 
lace  will  one  day  displace  the  lions 
grinning  from  the  gutters  at  the  eaves 
of  the  new  stone  church  in  Duane- 
street !  And  who  knows  but  that  in 
process  of  time,  American  architects 
will  be  found  who  shall  understand  the 
difference  between  the  Composite  and 
the  Corinthian,  and  that  a  long  sperm 
candle  was  never  intended  as  a  model 
for  a  Doric  column  ! 

The  simple-minded  reader  who  im- 


84  AN     HONEST     MAN 

agines  that  every  narrative,  biographi 
cal  or  historical,  should  read  straight 
on,  like  Robinson  Crusoe,  or  a  speech  of 
Colonel  Crockett,  may  suppose  that  a 
digression  like  this  in  which  I  have  just 
indulged,  must  be  wholly  irrelevant,  in 
the  life  of  an  humble  and  unpretending 
individual  like  Daniel  Wheelwright, — 
but  he  will  soon  discover  his  mistake — 
with  which  preliminary  flourish,  the 
order  of  my  history  is  resumed. 

It  was  some  four  or  five  years  before 
the  change  in  the  don-jon  just  indicated, 
that  the  humble  writer  hereof  was 
informed  by  a  special  messenger,  that 
there  was  "  a  gentleman  in  distress"  at 
the  debtor's  prison,  who  desired  to  see 
him.  Not  for  the  instant  recollecting 
any  friend  who  was  just  then  in  need  of 
house-room  at  the  public  expense,  the 
writer  was  entirely  at  a  loss  to  imagine 
who  could  have  requested  the  interview. 
But  aside  from  the  dictates  of  humanity, 


I  N    L  I  HBO.  85 

in  a  country  where  every  Shylock  has 
a  right  to  imprison  such  of  his  debtors 
as  may  have  become  too  poor  to  pay  in 
any  thing  but  flesh,  it  is  always  wise  to 
answer  summonses  of  this  description, 
since  there  is  no  telling  whose  turn 
may  come  next.  And  besides,  if  your 
friend  in  the  bilboes  has  brought  him 
self  thither  by  his  own  imprudence, 
there  is  a  chance  that  you  may  have 
the  consolation  of  seeing  him  come  out 
a  wiser  man  than  he  went  in. 

No  time  was  lost,  therefore,  in 
repairing  to  the  sombre  and  substantial 
mansion  already  described.  It  was 
during  the  latter  days  of  the  venerable 
"  Poppy  Lownds,"  as  the  worthy  old 
jailer  was  called,  who  for  so  long  a 
succession  of  years  had  presided  over 
the  internal  police  of  the  prison.  He 
was  a  kind-hearted  old  gentleman ;  and 
amidst  all  the  storms  and  vicissitudes 
of  party,  was  never  removed  from  office 
8 


86  ANHONESTMAN 

during  his  life-time — for  the  good  rea 
son,  probably,  among  others,  that  the 
venerable  officer  had  grown  so  lusty  in 
his  place,  that  it  was  impossible  to 
remove  him  out  of  it,  without  removing 
a  portion  of  the  prison  walls  also.  Be 
that,  however,  as  it  may,  the  writer 
found  Poppy  Lownds  sitting  in  his  big 
oaken  arm-chair,  dozing  in  some  pleas 
ing  reverie,  like  a  Turk  over  his  sher 
bet  after  dinner,  or  "  as  calm  and 
quiet  as  a  summer's  morning,"  to  quote 
a  favorite  metaphor  of  the  day,  in  re 
gard  to  the  guiding  spirit  of  an  often- 
killed  but  still  living  and  breathing 
"  monster."  As  the  writer  entered  his 
apartment,  he  took  a  long  pipe  from 
his  mouth  with  the  most  easy  delibera 
tion,  while  the  last  whiff  from  the 
aromatic  Virginia  weed  curled  upward 
in  an  azure  cloud,  and  mingled  with 
the  vapor  which  had  preceded  it. 

Having  made  known  the  cause  of 


INLIMBO.  87 

my  visit,  in  answer  to  the  inquiry 
as  to  the  inmate  of  his  establishment 
who  had  despatched  the  messenger, 
Poppy  Lownds  assured  me  that  the 
"  distressed  gentleman"  was  a  good- 
looking  stranger,  with  an  indifferent 
wardrobe,  and  rather  out-at-the-elbows 
like, — destitute  of  money,  and  some 
what  in  want  of  a  dinner, — but  one  of 
the  easiest  and  best-natured  prisoners 
ever  committed  to  his  charge,  since  the 
evacuation  by  the  British  troops,  in 
November,  1783; — an  event,  by  the 
way,  which  General  Morton  will  not 
live  long  enough  to  forget,  although  on 
every  cold  and  drizzling  return  of  the 
anniversary,  his  brigade  for  three  gene 
rations  past  have  heartily  wished  that 
it  had  taken  place  in  June,  or  almost 
not  at  all! 

The  scowling  turnkey  was  there 
upon  summoned,  and  the  writer  was 
conducted  through  one  dark  passage 


88  AN     HONEST     MAN 

and  another,  secured  by  bolts  and  bars 
enough  to  have  ensured  the  safe  keep 
ing  of  Baron  Trenck,  or  a  second  Ethan 
Allen.  At  length,  ascending  a  flight  of 
stairs,  he  was  ushered  into  an  apart 
ment,  connected  with  several  others, 
the  communicating  doors  between 
which  were  opened  for  the  day,  con 
taining  sundry  sorry  groups  of  inmates, 
with  long  beards,  and  patches  upon 
both  elbows,  some  of  whom  were  eat 
ing  the  soup  just  received  from  that 
excellent  charity,  the  Humane  Soci 
ety — while  others  were  playing  at  all 
fours,  with  cards  looking  as  old  and 
dirty  as  though  first  used  by  the  Moab- 
ites.  Others,  again,  were  engaged  at 
domino ;  and  others  still  busied  in  scoring 
the  walls  with  their  pen-knives,  or 
whittling  shingles  as  they  whistled  for 
want  of  thought.  These  latter  were 
Yankees  of  course ;  but  an  air  of  idle 
ness  and  indifference  pervaded  the 


INLIMBO.  89 

apartments,    which    almost    begets  a 
yawn  in  the  remembrance. 

When  the  good  Vicar  of  Wakefield 
was  sent  to  prison  by  the  villany  of 
Thornhill,  he  expected  on  his  entrance 
to  find  nothing  but  lamentations  and 
various  sounds  of  misery;  but  it  was 
very  different.  The  prisoners  seemed 
all  employed  in  one  common  design- 
that  of  forgetting  thought  in  merriment 
or  clamor.  My  own  disappointment 
was  equally  great  on  the  occasion  I  am 
relating — although  there  was  less  of 
clamor,  probably,  than  that  encountered 
by  the  Vicar — owing,  most  likely,  to  the 
lassitude  incident  to  a  fervid  sun  in 
July.  But  in  all  other  respects,  the 
prison  scene  depicted  by  Goldsmith 
one  hundred  years  ago,  would  have 
answered  very  well  for  New- York  in 
1821 — albeit  we  discerned  not  among 
them  the  shrewd  features  of  a  Jenkinson, 

8* 


90  ANHOXESTMAN 

and  heard  nothing  of  the  cosmogony 
either  of  Sanchoniathon  or  Manetho. 

Among  them  all,  however,  there 
was  not  a  countenance  that  could  he 
recognized,  and  the  writer  began  to 
flatter  himself  that  he  had  been  called 
by  mistake.  It  was  not  so.  Turning 
to  a  strongly  grated  window  in  another 
direction,  whom  should  he  see  but  his 
quondam  friend  Doctor  Wheelwright — 
as  sound  asleep  as  though  in  attend 
ance  upon  a  lecture  on  the  circulation 
of  the  blood,  in  the  Medical  College ! 
On  awaking  him  from  his  slumber,  he 
appeared  neither  surprised  nor  cha 
grined  at  the  interview.  "  The  iron 
had  not  entered  into  his  soul,"  what 
ever  might  have  been  the  case  with 
others — as  may  be  inferred  from  the 
following  brief  dialogue,  in  which  my 
friend  bore  his  part  with  all  imaginable 
non-chalance : — 


IN    LIMBO.  91 

"  Ah,  doctor,  is  this  you  ?" 

"  How  are  you  ?  Why  should'nt  it 
be?" 

"  But  pray  how  came  you  here  V 

"  Like  most  other  honest  people,  for 
that  matter — because  I  could'nt  help  it. 
But  it's  all  come  of  a  mistake." 

"  Why,  they  have  not  mistaken  you 
for  another  man,  have  they?" 

"  I  can't  say  exactly  that ;  but  I 
made  a  mistake  in  going  into  the  lottery 
trade." 

"  Then  you  did'nt  draw  the  high 
prize,  eh  ?" 

"No:  but  I  came  plaguey  nigh  it 
though — three  more  of  the  figures  would 
have  given  me  two  of  them." 

"  Indeed  !  you  made  the  mistake  in 
selecting  the  tickets,  then?  All  you 
wanted  was  the  right  numbers !" 

"  Exactly  so  :  but  it's  no  use  to  cry 
over  spilt  rnilk,  you  know;  and  be 
sides,  that  fellow  the  manager  has  fail- 


92  AN    HONEST     MAN 

ed,  so  that  it's  all  blanks  and  no  prizes, 
and  I  am  as  well  off  as  others.  But 
if  I  could  dream  as  well  as  that  Mr. 
Clark  did,  with  his  eyes  open,  in  Rich 
mond,  I  should  like  to  go  into  Yates  & 
M'Intyre's  next  scheme.  It's  well  enough 
to  have  honest  managers,  you  know." 

"  Very  true,  friend  Wheelwright ; 
but  even  then,  it  is  the  last  '  way  to 
wealth/  in  my  opinion,  that  any  sensible 
man  would  take — on  calculation." 

"  Yes  :  but  then  it's  well  enough  to 
be  in  luck's  way,  arnt  it  ?" 

It  will  readily  have  been  perceived 
from  the  language  and  bearing  of 
Wheelwright,  that  his  spirits  were  far 
less  depressed  than  his  circumstances. 
Indeed  he  was  as  cheerful  and  as  full 
of  good  nature  as  ever, — indifferent  as 
to  the  past,— not  much  troubled  at  the 
present, — and  yet  unconcerned  and  full 
of  «hope  for  the  future. 

On  making  the   necessary  inquiry 


INLIMBO.  93 

into  the  state  of  his  affairs,  it  appeared 
that,  not  having  a  superabundance  of 
visible  means  for  his  support,  his  land 
lord,  on  hearing  that  he  had  missed 
drawing  the  high  prize,  had  very 
unkindly  seized  upon  his  clothes  for  his 
board,  and  shut  him  up  so  that  he  could 
earn  nothing  to  pay  the  balance.  But, 
so  that  it  is  a  part  of  the  contract  that 
in  default  of  the  payment  of  a  debt,  the 
delinquent  promises  to  go  to  jail,  it  is 
all  right.  The  wisdom  of  sending  him 
there,  is  another  matter,  which  there  is 
not  time  now  to  discuss,  and  we  pro 
ceed.  My  friend's  object  in  sending  for 
me,  was  merely  to  obtain  the  means  of 
procuring  "  a  little  something  to  eat," 
since  his  only  food  for  the  week  pre 
ceding  had  been  given  him  by  one  of 
the  prisoners — a  venerable  man,  with 
snow-white  hair,  who  had  been  an 
inmate  of  the  prison  upward  of  thirty 
years,  and  who,  to  the  day  of  his  death. 


94  AN    HONEST    MAN 

refused  to  leave  the  prison,  although  the 
creditors  who  had  imprisoned  him,  had 
long  since  paid  the  debt  of  nature.  If 
deeds  of  charity,  or  the  voice  of  mercy, 
or  the  requirements  of  business,  have  in 
former  days  called  any  of  the  readers 
of  these  pages  to  the  old  prison,  they 
will  remember  this  ancient  prisoner.  The 
old  man  had  perhaps  read  the  pathetic 
tale  in  the  school-books,  of  the  aged 
prisoner  released  from  the  Bastile,  and 
he  cared  not  to  return  to  a  world  by 
which  he  was  unknown,  or  had  long 
since  been  forgotten.  If,  perchance, 
any  of  those  whom  he  had  once  taken 
by  the  hand,  were  yet  on  the  stage, 
their  chariot-wheels  might  roll  too  fast 
to  enable  them  to  recognize  the  poor 
old  man  by  whose  early  patronage  they 
had  been  enabled  to  purchase  their 
equipage.  He  therefore  preferred  the 
cold  victuals  of  his  prison-house,  to  the 
cold  charities  of  the  world. 


INLIMBO.  95 

Wheelwright  had  already  taken  the 
preliminary  steps  to  procure  relief  under 
the  insolvent  law.  He  should  soon  be 
discharged  from  jail  "by  order  of  the 
honorable  Richard  Riker;" — and  as 
"the  world  owed  him  a  living,"  he  was 
quite  confident  of  doing  well  enough 
yet. 

All  that  was  necessary  for  his 
comfort  was  of  course  done  for  him, 
and  at  the  time  appointed,  he  was  dis 
charged  from  prison  in  due  course  of 
law — free  from  debt — and  the  wide 
world  all  before  him  where  to  choose. 
His  clothes  were  redeemed  from  the 
landlord;  and  setting  his  face  north 
ward,  he  departed,  in  the  first  steam 
boat,  for  the  ancient  city  of  Albany, 
and  to  revisit  the  scenes  of  his  youth 
in  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

AN     ILLUSTRATION     OF    THE     SUBLIME 
AND     BEAUTIFUL. 

"  Who  can  speak  broader  than  he  who  has  no  house  to 
put  his  head  in  7" — Skakspeare. 

"With  darkness  circled,  and  an  ambient  cloud." 

NEARLY  a  year  elapsed  after  his  re 
lease  from  the  old  don-jon,  before  I  was 
enabled  again  to  rejoice  in  a  meeting 
with  my  friend  Wheelwright ;  and  our 
interview  happened  on  this  wise  :  Pass 
ing  by,  or  rather  crossing,  the  foot  of 
Courtland-street,  one  bright  morning  in 
May,  I  observed  a  group  of  laborers 
occupied  in  placing  some  articles  of 
heavy  iron-machinery  on  board  of  an 
Albany  sloop — the  General  Trotter,  I 
believe,  commanded  by  Capt.  Keeler — a 
veteran  navigator  of  the  Hudson.  And 
whom  should  I  discover  among  these 
men,  giving  directions  with  an  authori- 


AND     BEAUTIFUL.  97 

tative  air,  and  actually  bending  his  own 
back  to  the  work,  but  the  veritable 
Doctor  Daniel  Wheelwright !  It  was 
indeed  no  less  a  personage.  From  the 
previous  character  and  habits  of  my 
friend,  the  reader  may  judge  of  my  sur 
prise  at  beholding  him  thus  engaged — 
laboring,  too,  as  though  his  work  was 
made  easy  by  the  good  will  with  which 
he  was  performing  it.  Having  ex 
changed  salutations,  mingled  with  ex 
pressions  of  surprise  at  finding  him 
thus  employed,  and  inquired  upon  what 
new  enterprise  he  was  bent — 

"  Why  hav'nt  you  hearn  1"  was  his 
response. 

"  No,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"What?    riot  of  the  launch  of  the 
c  Lady-of-the-Lake,'  on  Lake  George  1" 

11  Ah — let  me  see — yes :    I  think  I 
have  seen  a  paragraph  respecting  it,  in 
the  Sandy  Hill  newspaper.     But  pray 
what  have  you  to  do  with  that  ?" 
9 


98  THESUBLIME 

"  To  do  with  it  1  Why  every  thing, 
I  am  the  agent  of  the  concern.  I  have 
made  up  the  company,  and  built  the 
boat.  The  engine  has  gone  up  the 
river,  and  I  am  now  shipping  the  last  of 
the  machinery. — [Come,  bear  a  hand 
there,  boys — what  are  you  about  ?]  Have 
you  ever  been  to  Lake  George  1  If  you 
want  to  see  a  touch  of  the  grand  and 
glorious,  I  guess  you'll  find  it  there. 
The  hills  is  sublime ;  and  the  lake  so 
clear  that  you  can  see  the  stars  in  it 
when  it's  cloudy." 

"  Indeed  !  And  you  then  are  to  be 
wedded  to  the  Lady-of-the-Lake  V1 

"  And  a  beautiful  thing  she  is,  too. 
We  shall  have  all  the  travel  of  the 
grand  tower  through  the  lake  to  Mon 
treal,  and  mean  to  have  the  boat  ready 
to  take  the  first  travellers  from  the 
Springs  after  the  fourth  of  July." 

"  And  you  are  really  looking  up  in 
the  world  again?" 


AND     BEAUTIFUL.^  99 

"  To  be  sure  I  be.  I  always  told 
you  that  the  world  owed  me  a  living, 
and  I  believe  I  have  at  last  struck  upon 
the  right  track  to  find  it.  [Come,  bear 
a  hand  there,  boys — Why  don't  you 
take  hold  of  that  shackle-bar,  Tom  ?"] 

Saying  which  he  applied  his  own 
shoulder  to  a  huge  cog-wheel,  with  the 
alacrity,  if  not  the  power,  of  another 
Hercules. 

I  was  alike  surprised  and  gratified 
with  this  apparent  change  in  the  Doc 
tor's  circumstances,  as  also  at  the  un 
wonted  industry  and  energy  he  was  now- 
putting  forth.  It  seemed  as  though  by 
some  rare  chance,  my  esteemed  and 
hitherto  unfortunate  friend  had  at 
length  become  associated  in  an  enter 
prise  for  which  he  might  be  found  very 
competent,  and  which  might  one  day 
prove  valuable — at  least  to  him,  if  not 
to  the  stockholders.  He  was  moreover 
taking  hold  of  the  work  himself  like 


100  THE    SUBLIME 

one  who  had  at  last  been  taught  by  the 
"  sweet  uses  of  adversity,"  that  a  man 
is  not  always  certain  of  obtaining  a 
living  by  his  wits,  unless  the  labors 
of  his  own  hands  are  superadded.  Fa 
shionable  travelling  during  the  summer 
months,  was  even  then  extensive;  it 
was  increasing  from  year  to  year — and 
was  sure  to  continue  increasing,  with 
the  augmentation  of  the  national  wealth 
and  population.  The  unsurpassed  at 
tractions  of  that  region — the  lake — its 
bright  waters — its  enchanting  islands — 
its  course  of  winding  beauty — and  its 
stupendous  mountains — glorious  in  their 
height,  their  wildness,  and  their  desola 
tion, — would  soon  become  more  gene 
rally  known,  and  must  inevitably  com 
mand  the  attention  of  all  travellers  of 
taste,  whenever  it  should  appear  that 
its  surface  might  be  traversed  by  a 
steamboat  in  a  few  hours,  from  the 
ruins  of  Fort  William  Henry  at  one 


AND    BEAUTIFUL.  101 

extremity,  to  those  of  Ticonderoga  at 
the  other,  Wishing  the  Doctor  a  good 
morning,  therefore,  and  all  possible 
success  in  his  new  undertaking, — in 
which  he  was  evidently  sustained  by 
the  strongest  hope  and  the  most  un- 
doubting  confidence, — we  parted  for 
that  time — not,  however,  without  a 
promise  on  the  part  of  my  friend,  prof 
fered  of  his  own  accord, — as  had  been 
the  case  at  sundry  times  before, — that 
he  would  shortly  remit  the  amount  of 
several  small  advances  which  it  had 
fortunately  been  from  time  to  time  in 
my  power  to  make,  for  the  purpose  of 
occasionally  rescuing  him  from  his  oft- 
returning  pecuniary  tribulations. 

The  machinery  all  arrived  safe,  and 
in  good  condition,  at  the  head  of  the 
lake,  and  the  boat  was  actually  com 
pleted,  under  the  charge  of  Dr.  Wheel 
wright.  The  good  people  of  the  little 
borough  of  Caldwell  rejoiced  in  the 
9* 


102  THE    SUBLIME 

brightening  prospects  of  their  village, 
and  actually  began  to  calculate  how 
soon  they  might  be  able  to  repaint  their 
houses,  and  substitute  nine  by  seven 
window  glass  for  the  old  hats  and  pet 
ticoats  which,  in  the  progress  of  their 
poverty,  had  been  stuffed  into  the 
broken  casements. 

Arrangements  were  making  for  the 
first  trip  down  the  lake,  and  among  the 
fairy  islands  apparently  floating  like 
emeralds  upon  its  bosom ;  and  but  a  few 
days  more  were  to  elapse  before  all 
things  were  to  be  in  readiness.  Mean 
time,  however,  before  the  captain  and 
crew  had  been  shipped,  and  in  order 
that  accident  might  not  happen  to  the 
fair  Lady-of-the-Lake,  or  danger  come 
nigh  her,  Mr.  Wheelwright  slept  on 
board  himself,  like  a  prudent  guardian 
of  the  property  confided  to  his  charge. 

The  last  memorable  night  on  which 
he  thus  slept  on  board,  was  remarkably 


AND     BEAUTIFUL.  103 

clear  and  beautiful.  All  was  silent  and 
sublime  among  the  lofty  mountains  in 
which  the  peaceful  lake  lay  deeply 
embosomed.  A  grateful  coolness  per 
vaded  the  atmosphere,  and  no  sounds 
disturbed  the  general  repose,  after  the 
night-hawk  and  whip-poor-will  had 
ceased  their  vesper-melodies,  save  the 
distant  hootings  of  the  owl  on  the 
mountain-side,  or  the  occasional  crash 
of  a  dried  limb  of  a  tree,  over  which 
the  prowling  wolf,  or  perchance  some 
heavier  tenant  of  the  forest,  was  bound 
ing.  The  stars  hung  pendent  and 
sparkling  like  diamonds  from  a  canopy 
of"  living  sapphires,"  and  were  reflected 
back  with  vivid  brilliance  from  the 
dark  surface  of  the  waters. 

A  poet  could  not  have  gone  to  bed 
on  such  a  night,  and  amid  such  a  scene 
of  gloomy  grandeur  as  this.  But  the 
agent  of  the  Lady-of-the-Lake  was  not 
distinguished  for  enthusiasm  of  that 


104  THE     SUBLIME 

sort,  and  he  turned  into  his  berth— 
having  no  oyster-supper  to  eat — at  a 
very  early  hour,  and  betook  himself  to 
dreaming— not  "of  antres  vast  and  de- 
sarts  idle,"— or  of  what  is  sublime  and 
glorious  in  creation, — but  of  piston-rods 
and  safety-valves- — pence  and  passen 
gers.  But  his  repose  was  disturbed  in 
a  manner  alike  unexpected  and  unwel 
come  ;  by  a  catastrophe,  too,  which  had 
well-nigh  deprived  the  world  of  the 
farther  services  of  Mr.  Wheelwright, 
and  his  biographer  of  the  pleasing  duty 
of  extending  these  memoirs  beyond  the 
present  chapter.  In  plain  terms,  at 
about  half-past  twelve  o'clock  he  wTas 
awakened  by  a  choking  sensation,  and 
sprang  upon  his  feet,  already  half  suffo 
cated  by  smoke.  The  awful  truth  of 
the  cause  was  literally  flashing  around 
him  upon  all  sides.  The  Lady-of-the- 
Lake — the  first  of  the  fair  upon  whom 
he  had  ever  in  fact  bestowed  his  affec- 


AND     BEAUTIFUL.  105 

tions — was  not  only  on  fire,  but  the 
flames  had  already  made  such  progress 
in  the  work  of  destruction  as  at  once 
to  preclude  the  hope  of  extinguishing 
them.  From  the  cabin  windows,  the 
appearance  rendered  it  certain  that  the 
whole  structure  was  wrapped  in  a  sheet 
of  flame.  In  the  next  instant,  the  fire 
burst  through  the  dividing  partition  of 
the  cabins,  obliging  our  hero  to  fly  in 
his  night-gown,  with  his  inexpressibles 
under  his  arm.  Thus,  coatless  and 
bootless,  he  leaped  on  shore,  when  delay 
a  second  longer  would  have  effectually 
prevented  his  ever  recounting  the 
tale. 

What  a  moment,  and  what  a  spec 
tacle  for  a  lover  of  the  "  sublime  and 
beautiful !"  Could  Burke  have  visited 
such  a  scene  of  mingled  magnificence, 
and  grandeur,  and  terror,  what  a  vivid 
illustration  would  he  not  have  added  to 
his  inimitable  treatise  upon  that  subject ! 


106  THE     SUBLIME 

Let  the   reader  picture   the  scene   to 
himself.     There,    at  the  dark  hour  of 
midnight,    among    the    ruins   of   Fort 
William  Henry  and  Fort  George,  stood 
Daniel  Wheelwright,  alone,  like  Marius 
amid  the  ruins  of  Carthage, — in  puris 
naturalibus,  as  the  insurgent  Shays  fled 
on   horseback,  and   in    a   snow-storm, 
from  the  face  of  General  Lincoln — and 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  forked 
radish,  as  Shakspeare  says  of  Justice 
Shallow.     But  albeit  ludicrous  in  his 
own  plight    and   position,    there    was 
nothing  of  that  character  in  the  scene 
around  him,  or  in  his  own  contempla 
tions.     The  fire   raged    with  amazing 
fury  and  power, — stimulated  to   mad 
ness  as  it  were,  by  the  pitch,  and  tar, 
and  dried  timbers,  and  other  combusti 
ble  materials  used  in  the  construction 
of  the  boat.   The  lurid  flames  ascended 
to  a  great  height, — the  smoke   rolled 
upward    in    majestic    volumes,   while 


AND    BEAUTIFUL.  107 

the  light,  red  as  the  flames  of  JEtna, 
streamed  across  the  lake,  gilding  the 
crumbling  battlements  of  the  old  fort, 
flushing  the  face  of  the  waters,  and 
tinging  the  mountain  sides  to  their  very 
crests.  The  night-bird  screamed  with 
terror,  and  the  beasts  of  prey  fled  in 
wild  affright  into  the  deep  and  visible 
darkness  beyond. 

This  is  truly  a  gloomy  place  for  a 
lone  person  to  stand  in  of  a  dark  night 
- — particularly  if  he  has  a  touch  of  su 
perstition.  There  have  been  fierce 
conflicts  on  this  spot — sieges,  and  bat 
tles,  and  fearful  massacres.  Here  have 
the  Briton,  and  the  Gaul,  and  the 
painted  savage,  mingled  in  the  dread 
fight, — steed  rushing  upon  steed,  hands 
clenched  in  hands  with  grappling  vigor, 
while  the  climbing  fire,  and  the  clash 
ing  steel,  and  eyes  flashing  with  mad 
dened  fury,  and  the  appalling  war- 
whoop  of  the  Indian,  have  all  combined 


108  THE     SUBLIME 

in  adding  terror  to  "  the  rough  frowns 
of  war."  Here  "  hath  mailed  Mars  sat 
on  his  altar  up  to  his  ears  in  blood," 
smiling  grimly  at  the  music  of  echoing 
cannons,  the  shrill  trump,  and  all  the 
rude  din  of  arms,  until,  like  the  waters 
of  Egypt,  the  lake  became  red  as  the 
crimson  flowers  that  blossom  upon  its 
margin.*  And  if  at  "  the  witching 
hour  of  night,"  the  unquiet  ghosts  of 
murdered  sinners  do  stalk  forth  to 
re-visit  earth  by  the  pale  glimpses  of 
the  moon,  the  slaughter  of  Fort  Wil 
liam  Henry  might  have  furnished  a 
goodly  number  of  shadowy  companions 

*  The  Lobelia  Cardinalis,  commonly  called  the  In 
dian  Eye-Bright.  It  is  a  beautiful  blossom,  and  is  fre 
quently  met  with  in  this  region.  The  writer  has  seen 
large  clusters  of  it  blooming  upon  the  margin  of  the 
"  Bloody  Pond,"  in  this  neighborhood — so  called  from 
the  circumstance,  of  the  slain  being  thrown  into  this  pond, 
after  the  defeat  of  Baron  Dieskau,  by  Sir  William 
Johnson.  The  ancients  would  have  constructed  a  beau 
tiful  legend  from  this  incident,  and  sanctified  the  sangui 
nary  flower. 


AND     FROWNS.  109 

for  the  hero  of  a  tale  which  is  no  fiction. 
But  I  am  not  aware  that  any  of  them 
came  forth  to  add  to  the  troubles  of  that 
memorable  night,  or  divert  his  mind 
from  what  must  then  have  been  the 
absorbing  subject  of  his  contempla 
tions.  Still,  if  they  had  had  any  desire 
of  mustering  for  a  midnight  review,  or 
for  a  goblin-dance,  they  lost  the  best 
opportunity,  probably,  that  will  again 
occur  for  ages; — since  another  such 
illumination  of  the  beautiful  esplanade 
in  front  of  the  old  fortress  where  the 
massacre  took  place,  and  where  the 
skeleton  platoons  would  of  course  have 
mustered,  will  never  again  be  presented 
— at  least  not  until  another  Doctor 
Wheelwright  shall  build  and  watch 
over  the  fortunes  of  another  Lady-of- 
the-Lake. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour,  the  beau 
tiful  vessel  was  burned  to  the  water's 

10 


110        FORTUNE'S   SMILES,  ETC. 

edge ;  when  the  weight  of  the  massive 
iron  machinery,  rendered  white  and 
malleable  by  the  intenseness  of  the 
heat,  carried  down  the  hull  to  the 
bottom,  and  the  waters  closed  over  it, 
sissing  and  boiling  for  a  moment,  as 
when  a  stream  of  lava  runs  burning 
into  the  embrace  of  the  ocean,  The 
illumination  being  thus  extinguished, 
darkness  once  more  brooded  over  the 
mountains,  the  face  of  the  deep,  and  the 
fortunes  of  Mr.  Daniel  Wheelwright — 
of  whom,  for  the  present,  we  must  take 
leave,  even  while  thus  he  stands,  as 
Sir  John  Moore  lies  under  the  walls  of 
Corunna — "  alone  in  his  glory" — sur 
veying 

" The  circling  canopy 

Of  night's  extended  shade." 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW     HE     AGAIN     CHANGES   HIS     CIRCUM 
STANCES. 

"  When  I  said  I  would  die  a  bachelor,  I  did  not  think  that 
I  should  live  till  I  were  married." — Shakspeare. 

"  I  knew  a  wench  married  in  an  afternoon,  as  she  went  to 
the  garden  for  parsely  to  stuff  a  rabbit." — Idem. 

THE  year  of  our  Lord  one*  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  twenty-two,  is  .yet 
freshly  remembered  in  New- York,  as 
being  the  last,  (thus  far,)  in  which  that 
metropolis  was  visited  by  the  afflictive 
plague  of  yellow  fever.  It  was  also  a 
memorable  year  in  the  life  of  Doctor 
Wheelwright.  Most  of  the  inhabitants 
were  obliged  to  flee  the  city — those 
who  could,  to  the  country ; — and  those 
who  could  not,  to  the  temporary  lodges 
hastily  constructed  for  their  reception 
upon  the  then  unoccupied  grounds  be 
tween  Broadway  and  the  North  River, 


112  HE     C  HAN  GE  S 

now  covered  by  Greenwich  and  the 
splendid  edifices  of  the  fifteenth  ward — 
containing  much  of  the  present  opulence 
and  taste  of  the  city.  The  location  of 
the  writer  hereof  was  near  the  hotel 
and  nine-pin  alley,  kept  by  Signor 
Fieschi ; — an  Italian,  celebrated  for  the 
excellence  of  his  segars,  and  for  whip 
ping  his  wife  with  rods  larger  than  is 
allowed  by  the  English  common  law — 
the  size  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Holt's 
little  finger  being  the  maximum  in  such 
cases. 

The  Autumn  of  that  year  was  re 
markable  for  the  beauty  and  clemency 
of  the  weather.  Knowing  that  there 
was  little  hope  for  the  abatement  of 
the  pestilence,  and  none  of  its  extinc 
tion,  until  after  a  severe  frost,  the  exiled 
citizens  were  never  before  so  anxious 
for  the  frosty  foretaste  of  winter.  But 
the  heavens  continued  cloudless,  and 
week  after  week  of  ethereal  mildness 


HIS     CIRCUMSTANCES.  113 

succeeded,   until   past    the  middle   of 
October. 

It  was  during  this  protracted  season 
of  sunny  weather,  that  for  several  days 
in  succession,  I  observed  my  old  friend 
Wheelwright  passing  the  window  of 
my  temporary  office,  in  company  and 
close  conversation  with  a  lady  clad  in 
the  deepest  habiliments  of  mourning. 
The  doctor  was  well  dressed,  and  so 
was  the  lady ;  for  the  suit  and  trap 
pings  of  her  wo  were  new  as  though 
she  was  but  recent  from  "the  sad 
burial  feast,"  probably,  of  her  wedded 
lord.  Whether  her  countenance  was 
as  indicative  of  a  sorrowful  and  bleed 
ing  heart,  as  the  deep  sables  in  which 
she  was  veiled,  I  could  not  tell.  But 
no  matter:  day  after  day  were  they 
seen  strolling  leisurely  up  the  then 
unbuilt  portion  of  Broadway,  and 
among  the  wooded  lanes  leading  there 
from  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  Love 
10* 


114  HE     CHANGES 

lane — a  retired  and  charming  walk — 
exactly  the  place  for  meditation  or 
making  love, — crossing  over  from  the 
Bloomingdale  road  to  the  North  River, 
which  has  since  been  "improved" 
out  of  existence, — was  a  favorite  place 
of  resort  with  my  old  friend  and  his  fair 
companion— -fair,  no  doubt  she  was, 
albeit  her  beauty  was  hidden  from  the 
vulgar  gaze  in  the  manner  already 
indicated. 

But  who  was  she  ?  Perhaps  a  sister, 
or  some  other  near  relative  of  his, 
whose  husband  had  been  swept  off  by 
the  pestilence,  and  into  whose  throbbing 
bosom  he  was  kindly  endeavoring  to  pour 
some  of  the  balmy  drops  of  consola 
tion  !  But  no — such  could  not  be  the 
fact,  since  no  corresponding  weed  of 
sorrow  appeared  upon  his  own  well- 
brushed  beaver.  Perhaps  a  stranger, 
just  rendered  an  orphan,  or  bereft  of 
a  brother  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  the 


HIS     CIRCUMSTANCES.  115 

West  India  plague — an  acquaintance 
of  my  friend,  whose  melancholy  he  was 
kindly  endeavoring  to  assuage.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  such  offices  were 
quite  out  of  his  line,  since  he  was  not 
easily  moved— unless  from  one  purpose 
to  another — and  of  all  men  he  was  the 
most  unused  -( to  the  melting  mood."  It 
was  truly  a  perplexing  affair ;  and  the 
mystery  was  increased  by  the  pains 
taken  by  Wheelwright  to  avoid  such 
an  interview  with  me  as  might  lead  to 
an  eclair cissement.  Several  times  did  I 
strive  to  throw  myself  in  the  way  of 
the  lady  and  her  assiduous  attendant — • 
venturing  even  to  cross  their  path,  on 
one  occasion,  for  the  purpose  of  making 
some  discovery.  But  the  attempt  was 
vain,  for  my  old  acquaintance  had 
apparently  become  so  near-sighted  as 
not  to  discern  a  person,  unless  he  came 
bolt-upright  against  him— or  unless, 
perchance,  on  some  occasions,  wrhen  he 


116  HE    CHANGES 

was  sufficiently  far-sighted,  to  enable 
him  to  turn  a  corner  in  season  to  avoid 
an  interview.  Once,  and  once  only,  I 
received  a  nod  of  recognition ;  but 
although  I  had  succeeded  in  gaining  a 
closer  proximity  than  usual,  all  that 
I  could  ascertain  through  the  deep  folds 
of  the  lady's  crape,  was  an  impression 
that  she  was  pale,  pensive,  a  little  pock 
marked,  and  five  and  thirty.  Had 
the  ladies  not  all  been  driven  from 
the  city  by  the  pestilence,  I  should 
most  assuredly  have  engaged  some  one 
or  more  of  them  to  solve  the  question, 
whether  the  doctor  was  engaged  in 
offices  of  sympathy,  or  an  affair  of  the 
heart — or  whether  he  was  actually 
engaged  in  any  way.  But  there  was  no 
pretty  familiar  at  hand  skilled  in  these 
delicate  matters ;  and  I  was  therefore 
compelled  to  forego,  for  a  time  at  least, 
the  gratification  of  my  curiosity. 
Obedient  to  the  law  of  the  disease, 


HIS     CIRCUMSTANCES.  117 

with  the  first  sound  frost,  the  fever 
disappeared;  the  citizens  returned  to 
their  respective  homes;  resumed  their 
wonted  avocations ;  and  as  usual  in 
New- York,  the  calamity  which  had 
interrupted  its  business,  and  driven  its 
inhabitants  out  of  town  for  half  the 
season,  was  forgotten,  with  its  conse 
quences,  in  a  fortnight.  One  of  my 
earliest  visiters,  after  business  had  re 
sumed  its  accustomed  channels,  was 
none  other  than  the  subject  of  this 
memoir,  whose  recent  avoidance  of  me 
had  been  marked  with  so  much  em 
phasis.  He  entered  my  little  sanctum 
with  a  grin  between  a  smile  and  a 
laugh,  and  was  evidently  on  excellent 
good  terms  with  all  the  world,  himself 
not  excepted.  Without  waiting  to  see 
what  might  be  his  reception,  he  began : 

"  Ah,  Colonel,  how  are  ye  ?  Escaped 
the  yellow  fever,  then,  eh  V 

"  Yes :  I  have  been  thus  fortunate — 
and  am  well." 


118  HE     C  H  ANGE  S 

"  Is  that  all  you've  got  to  say  ?  I 
hope  you've  hearn  of  my  good  luck, 
haint  you?  You  know  I've  always 
said  the  world  owed  me  a  living." 

"  I  hope  you'll  get  it :  Pray  what 
new  scheme  are  you  driving  at  now, 
Mr.  Wheelwright  ?" 

11  Do  tell !  don't  you  know  that  I  am 
now  a  married  man — good  as  the  rest 
of  you?" 

"  Married,  my  good  doctor !  To 
whom  ?" 

"  Why,  to  a  young  widow  from  En 
gland,  with  only  one  child,  and  worth 
thirty-thousand  pounds  sterling — think 
of  that !" 

"Indeed!  Well:  I  wish  you  joy, 
doctor.  It's  a  long  road  that  never 
turns.  But  I  hope  there's  no  doubt" — 

"  There's  no  doubt  or  mistake  in  the 
matter.  The  lady  was  the  widow  of 
an  Irish  captain,  and" — 

"  The  lady  in  mourning,  I  presume, 
to  whom  you  seemed  so  attentive  up 


HIS     CIRCUMSTANCES.  119 

town,  a  few  weeks  ago  ?  But  whence 
the  necessity  of  keeping  so  dark  upon 
the  subject  V9 

"  I  thought  it  like  enough  you'd 
think  I  was  behaving  kinder-curious- 
like.  But  her  husband  was  lately  dead, 
and  she  did'nt  care  to  see  any  body 
just  then; — and  besides,  I  was  deter 
mined  nobody  should  know  what  was 
going  on  betwixt  us,  till  the  job  was 
done." 

"  A  rich  widow,  then,  and  thirty- 
thousand  pounds sterling,  did  you 

say?" 

"  Why,  to  be  sure  I  did." 

"  And  is  she  young  and  handsome  V 

"  She's  comfortably  good  looking — 
though  I  don't  know  that  you  would 
say  raly  handsome.  But  the  thirty- 
thousand  pounds,  you  know — 

"  Very  true :  But  who  would  have 
ever  dreamed  of  your  turning  fortune- 
hunter  ?" 


120  HE     CHANGES 

"  No  body  had  more  need  on't 
than  I." 

"  Not  handsome,  but  rich  :  and  so,  I 
suppose  you  will  soon  learn  to  sing  the 
old  ballad — 

"  Her  golden  charms  so  sweetly  shine, 

While  rising  to  my  raptured  view  ; 
That  I  would  rather  call  them  mine, 
Than  any  girl  I  ever  knew  !" 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  poke  fun 
at  me,  I  hope  1" 

"  Not  at  all :  But  have  you  got  the 
ready  ?  Did  she  give  you  the  guineas, 
or  good  bills  of  exchange,  with  her 
person?" 

"  Why,  no,  not  exactly  that.  The 
fact  is,  that  her  property  belonged  to 
her  husband,  the  late  Captain  Scarlett, 
of  the  King's  Own,  and  it's  all  vested  in 
real  estate." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  ?" 

"As  sure  as  a  gun  :  just  as  sure  as  if 
I  had  the  money  in  my  hands.  She  has 


HIS     CIRCUMSTANCES.  121 

a  long  row  of  housen  in  Dublin,  and 
owns  several  housen,  besides,  in  one  of 
the  best  streets  in  Liverpool." 

Having  communicated  this  agreea 
ble  intelligence,  Mr.  Wheelwright  was 
apparently  about  taking  his  departure, 
and  moved  to  the  door ;  but  suddenly 
turning  round,  as  though  some  part  of 
his  errand  had  been  forgotten,  he  re 
sumed  : — 

"  So,  you  see,  the  small  matter  I  am 
owing  you  will  soon  be  paid; — but  I 
shall  be  obleeged  to  raise  a  little  money 
— only  a  thousand  dollars  or  so — to 
pay  a  lawTyer  to  investigate  the  titles, 
and  I  think  it  like-enough  I  shall  be 
obleeged  to  go  to  England  before  I  get 
it  all  settled." 

"  Oho !  Then  you  are  not  quite  so 
certain  of  the  fortune,  after  all.  The 
titles  are  yet  to  be  examined,  eh  1" 

"  But  that  won't  amount  to  nothing 
serious  though.  I  know  all  about  it." 
11 


122  HE     CHANGES 

"  Still,  my  good  doctor,  it  would 
have  been  better  had  you  looked 
well  to  those  titles  before  she  obtained 
a  title  to  you." 

"But  it's  of  no  consequence.  You 
see  the  case  is  just  here :  The  captain, 
d'ye  see,  had  something  to  do  with 
another  woman,  who  now  claims  the 
property  for  her  children ;  but  she 
was'nt  his  wife,  and  it  will  all  come 
right,  as  my  lawyer  tells  me,  if  I  can 
only  get  him  a  few  hundred  dollars  to 
carry  it  on." 

By  this  time  I  began  to  see  much 
more  of  the  poor  fellow's  case  than  he 
did  himself.  But  as  it  was  not  particu 
larly  convenient  for  me  to  accommo 
date  him  with  another  advance,  we 
parted  for  that  time — he  to  live  out  his 
honey-moon  in  dreams  of  treasures 
shortly  to  be  added  to  the  bliss  of 
"  wedded  love" — and  I  to  indulge  in  a 
variety  of  reflections  naturally  arising 


HIS     CIRCUMSTANCES.  123 

upon  the  subject,  which  were  doubt 
less  very  good,  though  long  since  for 
gotten.  The  sagacious  reader  will, 
perhaps,  have  no  difficulty  in  arriving  at 
the  conclusion  that  my  reflections  and 
Doctor  Wheelwright's  treasures  proved, 
in  the  end,  of  about  equal  value ;  and 
that  neither  would  have  been  taken  as 
good  security  by  any  bank  or  broker  to 
whom  application  might  have  been 
made  for  a  loan  of  the  required  funds. 
Whether  such  a  conclusion,  when  ar 
rived  at,  would  be  correct  or  not,  will  be 
discovered  in  a  succeeding  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XL 

PREPARES    TO  LIVE  BY  HIS  LEARNING. 

"  For  now  sits  Expectation  in  the  air." — Shakspeare. 

"A  man,  to  be  the  governor  of  an  island,  should  know 
something  of  grammar.  '  Grammar  ?' replied  Sancho,  'who 
the  d— 1  is  he~T  "—Don  Quixotte. 

THE  mellifluous  bard  of  Twickenham 
was  egregiously  mistaken  when  he  pro 
nounced  "a  little  learning"  to  be  "a 
dangerous  thing."  Had  it  not  been  for 
the  modicum  of  letters,  small  as  it  was, 
acquired  by  Mr.  Wheelwright,  at  the 
school  of  which  I  had  occasion  to 
speak  early  in  the  present  history,  to 
say  nothing,  as  seems  most  meet,  of  the 
university,  his  family  would  now  have 
been  rather  short  of  bread  and  butter. 
They  had  great  possessions,  of  the 
which  they  were  not  yet  possessed. 
But  these  were  a  great  way  off;  and, 
most  unfortunately,  somebody  else  had 
obtained  the  occupancy,  and  held  the 


PREPARES    TO    LIVE,   ETC.          125 

titles.  Nor,  from  the  existing  state  of 
Mr.  Wheelwright's  finances,  according 
to  the  report  of  his  counsel,  was  there 
any  immediate  prospect  of  his  soon 
becoming  master  of  what  was  now  in 
the  right  of  his  wife  unquestionably  his 
own.  The  consolation,  however,  was, 
that  in  the  end,  wrhen  those  in  the  un 
just  possession  of  the  property  should 
be  ejected,  they  would  be  compelled  to 
disgorge  the  accumulating  revenues 
from  the  rental,  and  other  sources  of 
income.  Meanwhile  it  was  necessary 
that  Mr.  Wheelwright  should  set  about 
doing  something  "  to  make  the  pot 
boil."  Accordingly,  after  casting  round 
for  an  occupation  which  promised  to 
produce  the  greatest  income  for  the 
least  bodily  or  mental  exertion  and  the 
smallest  capital,  it  was  determined  by 
himself  and  lady  to  establish  a  classical 
school  for  the  instruction  of  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  in  one  of  the 
11* 


126  PREPARES     TO     LIVE 

most  flourishing  villages  adjacent  to  the 
city  of  New- York. 

Mr.  Wheelwright  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  way  in  which  most 
public  objects  for  private  advantage 
are  managed  now-a-days,  not  to  secure 
the  countenance,  and,  if  possible,  the 
editorial  assistance  of  the  conductor  of 
a  "  happy  folio  of  four  pages,"  which 
once  a  week  poured  forth  its  treasures 
of  knowledge  for  the  enlightenment  of 
the  good  people  in  the  village,  and  the 
region  round  about,  even  to  New- 
Utrecht  and  Flatlands.  He  therefore, 
and  that  wisely,  sought  the  acquaint 
ance  of  the  gentleman  of  paste  and 
scissors,  with  an  advertisement  ready 
prepared — of  somewhat  formidable  di 
mensions — and  for  the  composition  of 
which  he  was  indebted  to  a  retired 
schoolmaster,  who  had  cheerfully  ren 
dered  this  little  service  for  the  occa 
sion.  Like  most  of  the  conductors  of 


BY    HIS     LEARNING.  127 

the  latter-day  luminaries  which  dispense 
that  sound  political  wisdom  and  uni 
versal  knowledge  which  render  the 
people  of  this  nation  "  the  most  intel 
ligent  on  earth,"  the  editor  was  very 
accessible  and  gracious.  Indeed,  he 
was  truly  desirous  of  testifying  the 
satisfaction  he  felt,  on  the  accession  to 
his  village  of  an  institution  which  pro 
mised  so  many  advantages,  particularly 
to  the  gentler  sex  of  the  rising  genera 
tion  ;  and  which  would  offer  another 
inducement  for  people  to  do  their 
eating,  and  sleeping,  and  tax-paying  on 
Long  Island,  and  their  business  in 
New- York.  His  next  publication,  there 
fore,  contained  the  following  article : — 

"  From  the  Longa  Insula  Astra,  Dec.  10,  1822. 

"  We  take  great  pleasure  in  calling 
the  attention  of  those  of  our  citizens 
who  are  parents  to  the  article  which 
will  be  found  immediately  below.  It  was 
indeed  handed  in  as  an  advertisement ; 


128  PREPARES     TO     LIVE 

but  we  feel  so  deeply  interested  in  the 
object  proposed,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
classical  and  poetical  beauty  of  the 
article  itself,  that  we  could  not  forbear 
awarding  to  it  a  greater  conspicuity. 
Indeed  we  scarcely  know  when  we 
have  published  an  article  with  more 
heart-felt  pleasure.  The  gentleman  and 
lady,  we  understand,  have  been  re 
duced  by  a  succession  of  misfortunes, 
from  a  state  of  affluence  to  that  of 
much  humbler  circumstances,  But 
with  that  noble  spirit  of  independence 
which,  we  are  proud  to  say,  is  so  pecu 
liarly  the  indweller  of  American  bo 
soms,  they  have  determined  to  rise 
superior  to  their  misfortunes,  and  win 
for  themselves  that  patronage  which 
they  have  heretofore  had  it  in  their 
power  to  dispense.  We  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  a  personal  interview  with 
the  gentleman  who  is  to  have  the 
charge  of  the  proposed  institution.  He 


BY     HIS     LEARNING.  129 

appears  to  be  well  educated,  modest, 
and  unassuming — a  master  of  the  an 
cient  languages,  as  his  lady  is  of  the 
modern  ;  and  from  what  we  have  heard, 
we  doubt  not  their  ample  qualifications 
for  the  undertaking.  Mrs.  W.  has  en 
joyed  the  advantages  of  foreign  travel, 
which  will  enable  her  to  form  the 
manners  of  her  pupils  after  the  best 
models  of  the  salons  of  Paris,  Vienna, 
and  London ;  and  we  believe  that  by 
her  judicious  counsel  she  has  been  of 
great  service  to  the  most  celebrated 
female  seminaries  in  New- York,  as  also 
to  the  distinguished  seminary  in  Troy — 
all  of  which,  we  trust,  will  soon  be  rival 
led  by  that  of  our  own  village.  It  is  the 
design  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wheelwright  to 
extend  their  institute  as  rapidly  as  will 
be  consistent  with  their  means,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  year  or  two  to  obtain  a 
charter  for  a  college,  with  power  to 
confer  degrees  upon  their  female  as  well 


130  PREPARES     TO      LIVE 

as  their  male  pupils.  And  why  not  ? 
The  intellectual  equality  of  females 
with  males  has  been  fully  established 
by  the  Edgeworths,  and  Hannah  Mores, 
and  Lady  Morgans  of  Europe,  and  by 
females  equally  illustrious  among  our 
own  fair  countrywomen,  only  they  do  not 
occur  to  us  just  at  this  moment.  Why, 
then,  should  not  female  proficients  be 
entitled  to  degrees  of  merit,  as  well  as 
nine-tenths  of  the  blunder-heads  who 
go  through  college,  and  come  out  no 
wiser  than  they  went  in  7  For  our  parts 
we  shall  stand  up  for  female  rights, — 
for,  as  the  poet  says  : — 

The  world  was  sad,  the  garden  was  a  wild, 
And  man,  the  hermit,  sighed,  till  woman  smiled. 

"  We  therefore  hope  the  college  will 
go  on,  and  when  we  obtain  the  South 
Ferry,  we  will  look  about  to  see  what 
is  to  be  done  next.  But  we  have  not 
room  to  extend  our  remarks — of  which, 
however,  there  is  no  occasion,  since  the 


BY    HIS    LEARNING.  131 

eloquent  article  below  will  speak  for 
itself. 

"EDUCATION. 

"  "Pis  education  shows  the  way, 
Each  latent  beauty  to  display ; 
Each  happy  genius  brings  to  light, 
Conceal'd  before  in  shades  of  night; — • 
So  diamonds  from  the  gloomy  mine, 
Taught  by  the  workman's  hand  to  shine, 
On  Chloe's  ivory  bosom  blaze, 
Or  grace  the  crown  with  brilliant  rays. 

"PHILOMATHI  AN      INSTITUTE. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wheelwright  beg 
leave  to  announce  to  parents  and  guar 
dians  in  this  village  arid  its  vicinity 
that  on  the  1st  of  January  now  ensu 
ing,  they  will  open  a  literary  and  clas 
sical  institution  for  the  instruction  of 
the  rising  generation — both  of  young 
gentlemen  and  ladies.  The  rising  glories 
of  this  western  hemisphere  have  scarce 
ly  yet  begun  to  be  developed ;  and  as 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wheelwright  have  been 
deeply  impressed  with  the  importance, 


132  PREPARES    TO    LIVE 

in  a  young  and  rising  republic,  of  having 
the  youth  of  the  land,  of  both  sexes, 
reared  in  the  paths  of  virtue  and  the 
intellectual  flower-garden  of  knowledge, 
they  have  determined  to  devote  their 
best  faculties  to  the  sacred  cause  of 
education, — fully  believing,  from  the 
t  inexpressible  interest  they  feel  upon  the 

subject,  that  they  shall  be  enabled  to 
exclaim  with  the  immortal  poet — 

*  Delightful  task  !  to  rear  the  tender  thought, 
And  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot  /' 

From  long  and  profound  reflection  upon 
the  never-sufficiently-enough-to-be-esti- 
mated  subject  of  education,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Wheelwright  have  become  entirely 
and  unchangeably  persuaded  that  all 
existing  systems  of  instruction  are 
essentially,  and  radically,  as  they  may 
say,  if  not  from  the  root,  erroneous,  and 
consequently  defective  as  it  were ;  and 
they  trust  that  they  shall  be  enabled  to 
introduce  such  improvements  and  inno- 


BY     HIS     LEARNING.  133 

vations  in  the  science  of  teaching,  as 
essentially  to  assist  the  spirit  of  a  gene 
rous  emulation  in  its  efforts  for  noble 
rivalry ;  to  aid  the  aspirations  of  a  well- 
regulated  ambition;  and  to  encourage, 
in  all  possible  and  practicable  ways, 
the  desire  of  young  genius  to  wing  his 
eagle  flight,  as  it  were,  on  the  pinions 
of  intellectual  corruscations.  Every 
branch  of  human  learning,  either  useful 
or  ornamental,  or  of  the  least  utility, 
will  be  taught  at  the  Philomathian  In 
stitute,  for  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wheel 
wright  feel  the  utmost  confidence  in 
their  own  capacities  and  qualifications ; 
since,  in  addition  to  being  a  graduate 
of  one  of  the  first  universities  of  the 
age  in  which  we  live,  Mr.  W.  has 
studied  a  learned  profession,  and  Mrs. 
W.  is  possessed  of  the  superior  advan 
tage  of  having  been  reared  and  educated 
in  several  of  the  leading  European 
capitals.  The  utmost  regard  will  be 
12 


134  PREPARES    TO    LIVE 

had  to  the  morals  and  manners  of  such 
young  aspirants  as  may  be  entrusted  to 
their  charge.  To  invigorate  the  consti 
tutions  of  the  pupils,  a  gymnasium  will 
be  provided  for  the  boys  of  the  male  sex, 
and  one  hour  per  day  will  be  devoted  to 
callisthenics  in  the  female  department, 
to  be  occupied  by  the  girls.  In  this 
department,  the  higher  branches  of  in 
struction,  both  useful  and  ornamental, 
will  be  prosecuted  under  the  immediate 
superintendence  of  Mrs.  Wheelwright, 
who  will  spare  no  pains  in  the  inocula 
tion  of  the  soundest  lessons  of  virtue, 
while  yet  their  young  and  youthful 
minds  can  be  bent  like  the  twig,  and 
inclined  like  the  tree,  as  the  poet  says. 
Those  who  desire  it  will  receive  in 
struction  in  the  elements  of  moral  phi 
losophy,  for  which  purpose  they  must  be 
provided  with  Newtown's  Principles, 
and  other  works  of  the  kind.  Mrs. 
Wheelwright  has  paid  much  attention 


BY    HIS   LEARNING.  135 

to  this  sublime  and  beautiful  study, 
which  so  enraptured  the  immortal  Mil 
ton: — 

*  How  charming  is  divine  Philosophy  ! 
Not  harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose, 
But  musical  as  Apollo's  lute, 
And  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectar'd  sweets, 
Where  no  rude  surfeit  reigns.' 

It  is  to  such  a  feast  that  the  young 
ladies  of  this  village  will  soon  be  in 
vited.  Great  pains  will  moreover  be 
taken  to  cultivate  the  domestic  habits 
and  affections,  as  the  poet  says  : — 

'Man  may  for  wealth  and  glory  roam, 
But  woman  must  be  bless'd  at  home ; 
To  this  should  all  her  studies  tend, 
This  her  great  object,  and  her  end.' 

At  the  same  time  no  efforts  will  be 
spared  to  keep  their  young  budding 
minds  from  vicious  associations,  and  to 
render  them  as  sweet  as  innocent,  as 
innocent  as  gay,  as  gay  as  happy  : — 

1  Vice  is  a  monster  of  such  frightful  mien, 
As  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen  ; 


136  PREPARES     TO     LIVE 

But  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  his  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace/ 

Knowing  this  to  be  true  from  expe 
rience,  the  principal  and  vice-principal 
of  the  Philomathian  Institute  will  do 
all  in  their  power  to  keep  their  pupils 
in  the  paths  of  wisdom,  and  pleasant 
ness,  and  peace,  as  Shakspeare,  the 
sweet  swan  of  Avon,  says.  In  one 
word,  it  will  be  the  object  and  aim  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wheelwright  to  qualify 
the  young  gentlemen  to  act  nobly  their 
part  in  this  republican  monarchy,  and 
the  young  ladies  whose  education  has 
been  so  long  neglected — whose  minds 
have  so  long  been  evolved  in  Siberian 
darkness — and  as  it  were  wasting  their 
sweetness  on  the  desert  air — for  the 
wives  and  mothers  of  freedom." 

Added  to  this  eloquent  and  promis 
ing  proclamation,  introduced  as  we 
have  already  seen,  by  the  editor,  were 
the  names  of  sundry  presidents  of  colle- 


BY   HIS   LEARNING.  137 

ges,  reverend  doctors,  editors,  especially 
of  the  religious  papers,  various  public 
officers,  among  whom  were  the  governor 
of  the  state,  the  mayor  and  recorder, 
several  classical  teachers,  and  other 
gentlemen,  as  references — most  of  whom 
when  applied  to,  declared  that  they  had 
never  heard  of  the  concern  before; 
others  admitted  that  they  had  allowed 
reference  to  be  made  to  their  names, 
because  they  knew  nothing  against  it; 
while  a  few  assented  to  the  high  quali 
fications  of  the  teachers  without  scru 
ple. 

As  to  the  morality  of  such  an  unau 
thorized  use  of  great  names,  on  the  one 
part,  and  the  authorized  use  of  them 
on  the  other,  merely  to  avoid  the  utter 
ance  of  a  monosyllable  of  two  letters, 
when  the  effect  is  a  deception  upon  the 
public,  it  is  not  a  subject  for  present 
discussion.  Both  practices  are  abuses 
of  the  times,  which  have  been  carried 
12* 


138         PREPARES    TO    LIVE,   ETC. 

to  such  an  extent  that  nothing  can  be 
more  unmeaning  than  references  of 
this  kind — in  regard  as  well  to  schools, 
and  "  institutes,"  and  "  seminaries,"  as 
to  the  publication  of  books  by  sub 
scription,  and  the  superior  merits  of  pa 
tent  blacking  and  razor-straps ;  as  to 
which,  by  the  way,  it  has  always  been 
a  subject  of  speculation  to  the  writer, 
why  a  reverend  divine  or  an  eminent 
physician  should  be  supposed  better 
qualified  to  give  an  opinion  than  a  boot 
black  or  a  barber.  Here,  therefore,  "  let 
us  breathe,"  as  Shakspeare  says,  "  and 
happily  introduce  a  course  of  learning 
and  ingenious  studies,"  in  the  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

OF     THE     MARCH    OF    MIND. 

"Smith.  The  clerk  of  Chatham :  he  can  write,  and  read, 
and  cast  accompt. 

Cade.  O  monstrous  ! 

Smith.  We  took  him  setting  of  boys'  copies. 

Cade.  Here's  a  villain  ! 

Smith.  H'as  a  book  in  his  pocket  with  red  letters  in't. 

Cade.  Nay,  then,  he's  a  conjuror. 

******** 
Cade.  Dost  thou  use  to  write  thy  name  ?   or  hast  thou  a 
mark  to  thyself,  like  an  honest  man  <? 

Clerk.  Sir,  I  thank  God,   I  have  been  so  well  brought  up 
that  I  can  write  my  name." — Shakspeare. 

"Hail,  wedded  love"— "and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 
Milton  and  Matthews. 

IT  may  well  be  imagined  that  the 
appearance  of  such  a  flourishing  lite 
rary  manifesto  as  that  set  forth  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  created  an  uncom 
mon  sensation  in  the  village.  The 
ladies  admired  the  distiches  of  poetry 
with  which  the  pompous  proclamation 
was  so  plentifully  sprinkled,  and  the 
gentlemen,  not  being  conversant  with 


140  THE    MARCH   OF   MIND. 

those  convenient  helps,  the  "Elegant 
Extracts"  supposed  of  course  that  the 
advertisers  must  be  persons  of  consider 
able  erudition.  Indeed,  the  thing  took 
wonderfully,  and  nothing  was  thought 
of,  or  talked  of,  by  ambitious  mothers, 
and  those  opening  rose-buds,  their 
daughters,  for  the  full  period  of  nine 
days,  but  the  new  "  Institute,"  or 
"  Seminary" — the  old-fashioned  word 
"  school"  never  being  once  mentioned. 
Nor  were  the  lords  of  creation  unmind 
ful  of  the  good  fortune  in  which  they 
were  so  soon  to  rejoice.  Various  situ 
ations  were  proposed  and  discussed,  for 
the  site  of  a  new  edifice  which  would 
doubtless  be  required  within  a  twelve 
month,  and  real  estate  rose  exorbitant 
ly  in  every  vicinity  thus  designated. 
A  charter  from  the  Legislature  was  of 
course  to  be  applied  for,  and  several 
meetings  of  those  who  were  to  form  the 
Board  of  Trustees,  were  held  to  adjust 


THE     MARCH     OF     MIND.  141 

the  details.  The  privileges  of  a  college 
were  to  be  obtained,  with  the  power  of 
conferring  the  same  degrees  upon  female 
students,  as  upon  -males — forgetting,  in 
their  ardor,  that  the  constitution  of 
female  Bachelors  and  Masters  of  Arts 
would  be  a  misnomer  in  any  other  coun 
try  than  Ireland.  In  one  word,  there 
was  to  be  no  other  classical  institution, 
in  this  country  or  any  other,  comparable 
with  it — and  to  it  the  nuns  of  Cana 
da,  the  Moravians  of  Bethlehem,  and 
the  azure-hosed  professors  of  modern 
Ilium,  would  forever  thereafter  be  com 
pelled  to  send  for  instructers. 

It  need  not  be  added,  that  under  all 
this  excitement,  and  in  view  of  all  these 
measures,  on  the  opening  of  the  insti 
tute,  there  was  a  rush  of  pupils,  pro 
mising  golden  returns  to  the  accom 
plished  and  enterprising  teachers.  As 
to  its  progress,  and  the  moral  and 
intellectual  results,  the  biographer  has 


142  THE     MARCH     OF     MIND. 

not  been  supplied  with  the  materials 
for  a  minute  history.  It  is  known, 
however,  that  the  principals  provided 
themselves  with  the  most  modern, 
and  consequently  the  best  elementary 
"  helps"  to  be  found  in  the  bookstores. 
Justice  also  requires  of  the  biographer 
to  say,  that  his  friend  Wheelwright  did 
not  enter  upon  his  preceptorial  duties 
without  many  severe  misgivings ;  and 
for  some  weeks  previous  to  the  open 
ing  of  the  seminary,  he  applied  himself 
to  the  work  of  preparation  with  un 
wonted  assiduity.  But  he  was  never 
theless  sadly  deficient,  as  may  well  be 
supposed.  Still,  in  his  classes  of  geo 
graphy  and  rhetoric,  he  managed  to 
get  along  for  several  weeks,  by  the  aid 
of  those  convenient  instruments  of  in 
struction,  which  contain  all  necessary 
questions  and  answers  at  the  bottom 
of  the  pages — Kames  and  Malte-Brun 
done  over  again  by  sciolists,  so  that  the 


THE     MARCH     OF     MIND.  143 

real  authors  would  be  astonished  to 
find  how  greatly  they  had  been  simpli 
fied.  Alexander's  Virgil,  also,  reflect 
ing  the  Latin  of  one  page  back  in  En 
glish  from  the  other,  was  of  great 
assistance  to  him.  But  in  arithmetic 
and  grammar  he  was  completely  at 
fault.  He  had  never  been  able  to  repeat 
the  whole  multiplication  table  ;  and  he 
now  found  it  utterly  beyond  his  capa 
city  to  work  a  common  problem  in  the 
rule  of  three.  In  grammar,  moreover, 
he  could  never  quite  distinguish  be 
tween  a  noun  and  a  verb;  and  although 
he  almost  committed  the  rules,  and 
could  enumerate  the  several  parts  of 
speech,  yet  he  could  never  apply  the 
principles  in  parsing. 

It  was  not  long,  therefore,  before  the 
most  forward  of  his  pupils  began  to 
discover  that  they  knew  more  than 
their  instructer — and  the  natural  conse- 


144  THE     MARCH     OF     MIND. 

quences — contempt    and    insubordina 
tion — speedily  followed. 

Meantime    the    qualifications    and 
efforts   of  Mrs.    Wheelwright,   in  the 
other  branch    of   the    institute,   were 
presently  discovered  to  be  equally,  even 
if  not   more,   defective   and   profitless. 
She  was  an  Irish  lady  by  birth — had 
resided   for  a   time   in   Scotland,  and 
likewise  in  England — previous   to  her 
visit  across  the  channel  to  complete  her 
education  in  the  capital  of  la  grande 
nation.  When  she  left  the  emerald  isle, 
"  her  speech,"  to  use  a  phrase  of  Lord 
Bacon,  "  was  in  the  full  dialect  of  her 
nation."    She  had  afterward  conversed 
enough   with   English  and  Scotch,  to 
complete  the   union  of  the  three  king 
doms — to  all  which  was  added  such  a 
smattering   of    French    as  was  to  be 
acquired  by  a  residence — as  a  femme 
de  chambre,  as  it  was  afterward  scanda- 


THE    MARCH   OF    MIND.  145 

lously  reported — in  Paris  of  a  year  or 
perhaps  more.  She  had  readily  picked 
up  a  good  many  French  words,  in  the 
course  of  her  sojourn;  but  her  Gallic 
pronunciation  was  blended  with  all 
the  other  dialects,  among  which  the 
brogue  of  her  own  mother  tongue 
ludicrously  enough  predominated. 

The  reader  has  probably  heard  the 
story  of  the  Yankee  candidate  for  the 
mastership  of  one  of  our  common 
schools,  who,  on  being  asked  by  the  in 
spectors  whether  he  knew  any  thing  of 
mathematics,  answered  that  he  didn't 
know  Matthew,  although  he  had  seen 
a  good  deal  of  one  Tom  Mattocks, 
in  Rhode  Island ;  but  he'd  never  hearn 
of  his  having  any  brother.  So  with 
Mrs.  Wheelwright — Mr.  Syntax  was 
equally  a  stranger  to  her.  But  she 
had  seen  some  coarse  pieces  of  em 
broidery  from  the  rustic  pupils  of 
country  boarding  schools,  and  knew 
13 


146  THE    MARCH    OF   MIND. 

that  they  were  needlework,  of  some 
sort.  She  therefore  set  herself  to  teach 
ing  that  elegant  branch  of  the  fine 
arts.  The  first  group  attempted,  was  a 
family  picture — a  mother  and  her  six 
children  at  the  tomb  of  their  deceased 
husband  and  father,  under  what  was 
meant  for  a  willow  tree  drooping  over 
an  obelisk.  But  such  a  group !  such 
a  widow  !  and  such  weeping  children  ! 
Indeed  they  looked  sorry  enough.  Surely 
no  eye  e'er  saw  such  scare-crows ;  and 
no  one  could  look  upon  them  without 
emotion — but  of  what  kind,  the  reader, 
who  has  doubtless  seen  many  kindred 
specimens  in  this  department  of  a  mo 
dern  education,  may  decide  for  himself. 
The  next  piece  was  the  Prodigal  Son, 
taking  leave  of  his  benevolent  father, 
in  a  red  dress-coat  and  white-top  boots! 
The  drawings  were  copies,  and  the 
needlework  resembling  the  darnings  in 
the  hose  to  be  seen  on  the  heels  of  the 


THE    MARCH    OF   MIND.  147 

ladies  sitting  in  the  country  markets. 
Thus  much  for  her  fancy  work ;  and 
the  French  she  taught  was  on  a  par. 
Such  French  had  never  before  been 
spoken — out  of  Ireland! 

Such  were  the  condition  and  pros 
pects  of  this  hopeful  seminary,  when  an 
other  unexpected  change  came  over  the 
temporal  circumstances  of  poor  Wheel 
wright.  The  girls  under  the  charge  of 
his  accomplished  consort  having  been 
engaged  in  a  frolic  during  her  absence 
to  prepare  the  pottage  for  dinner — and 
girls  at  school  will  always  have  their 
frolics — the  gentle  instructress  return 
ed  in  a  rage,  flushed  with  passion,  the 
heat  of  the  kitchen  fire,  and  perhaps  a 
drop  of  the  CRATHUR — swore  several  big 
Irish  oaths  that  she  would  have  no  more 
such  carryings  on  by  the  childers  in  her 
house,  and  by  the  powers,  she  would 
be  afther  clearing  them  out — the  spal 
peens  ! — that's  what  she  would,  honies ! 


148  THE     MARCH     OF     MIND. 

It  was  her  first  outbreak  of  the 
kind,  and  the  little  misses  were  ap 
palled,  and  many  of  them,  thinking, 
perhaps,  that  she  was  crazy,  or  had  "  a 
drop  in  her  eye,"  ran  home  in  affright. 
Nor  did  their  parents,  or  at  least  the 
most  of  them,  allow  their  children  again 
to  return. 

"  Rare  are  solitary  woes,"  says  the 
poet — on  the  contrary,  they  are  ever  apt 
to  be  treading  each  other's  heels ;  and 
it  was  so  with  the  hero  of  this  biogra 
phy  in  the  present  instance.  The  school 
had  been  undertaken  as  a  temporary 
resource,  during  the  pendency  of  the 
legal  measures  necessary  to  obtain  his 
estates.  It  had  now  been  suddenly 
broken  up,  and  that,  too,  before  any 
thing  but  delays  and  expense  had  been 
realized.  An  incident  that  occurred 
the  day  following,  moreover,  might 
have  occasioned  misgivings  as  to  the 
future  to  a  man  of  quicker  perceptions 


THE    MARCH   OF   MIND.  149 

than  Mr.  Wheelwright — but  fortunately 
his  wife  was  the  earliest  riser.  It  hap 
pened  that  as  his  spouse  was  exchang 
ing  some  rather  undignified  jokes  with 
the  milkman,  a  jolly  son  of  Erin  came 
along,  whose  rubicund  visage  kindled 
with  a  thousand  smiles  as  his  eyes 
rested  on  the  lady. 

"  Och !  the  top  o'  the  morning  to 
you,  Misthress  Judy  O'Calloran  !"  says 
Pat.  "  Divil  burn  me,  but  it's  a  long 
while  sin  my  eyes  have  seen  the  like 
o'ye,  Misthress  Judy,"  he  continued. 

"And  that's  you,  Misther  Thady 
O'Flannerty,"  replied  the  fair  one — 
"  but  I'm  not  Misthress  Judy  O'Callo 
ran, — and  d'ye  think  it's  myself  that 
does'ent  know." 

"  Troth,  and  if  ye're  not  Misthress 
Judy,  honey,  then  it's  not  your  dare  ould 
mother's  darther  that  ye  be." 

"Whisht!"  rejoined  the  lady: — 
"  Don't  ye  percave  that  it's  not  I — it's 
13* 


150  THE    MARCH    OF   MIND. 

not  Judy — botheration,  Thady — how 
can  ye  be  afther  coming  where  you 
ain't  known  7" 

"  Och,  Judy,  thin  ye  see  if  it's  not 
ye'rsel,  it's  bekase  I'm  not  Thady 
O'Flannerty  that  was,  sin  the  wake 
last  night.  But  it's  mighty  unna- 
thural  if  it's  not  Judy  I  suspict.  And 
where's  the  man  that  ye  had,  Pat 
Rooney  that  was  !" 

"  Get  ye  gone,  ye  baste,"  replied 
the  amiable  Misthress  Wheelwright, 
"  you  mallet-headed  bog-throtter,  to 
hinsult  an  honest  woman  all  of  a  sud- 
dint  so.  No  gintilman  would  thrifle 
with  a  dacent  woman  afther  this  gate, 
whin  he'd  niver  seen  her." 

"  Och,  murther  in  Irish  now,  and 
it's  the  blissed  thruth,  Misthress  Judy, 
that  I  was  tellin  ye.  But  thin,  such  is 
the  way  of  the  world — Saint  Pathrick 
save  us !  If  the  crathur  had'nt  bin 
afther  laving  her  own  husband,  and 


THE    MARCH    OF   MIND.  151 

runnin'  off  with  Pat  Rooney,  may  be 
that  her  darlint  ould  mother's  life 
would  have  bin  extinded  many  years 
afther  her  death — shame  on  the  crathur ! 
But  thin,  it's  not  the  ould  lady's  wake 
that  would  have  bin  the  last  that  Thady 
O'Flannerty  attinded  in  Limerick — bad 
luck  to  her  !;' 

Long  before  her  unwelcome  ac 
quaintance  had  finished  his  oration, 
however,  the  indignant  lady  had  scam 
pered  into  the  house,  slamming  the  door 
after  her  with  great  violence,  and  dash 
ing  her  pitcher  of  milk  to  fragments  by 
the  same  unguarded  action.  But  Thady 
followed  on,  as  though  to  make  good  his 
acquaintanceship,  and  was  met  at  the 
threshhold  by  Wheelwright  himself, 
who  had  been  aroused  by  the  clamor. 

"  And  plase  your  honor,"  says  Tha 
dy,  "  can  you  tell  me  where  is  Misther 
Whalewright's  boardin'-school  that  was, 
that's  called  the  siminary  that  is  ?" 


152  THE     MARCH    OF   MIND. 

"  That  icas — >sure  enough, — said 
Wheelwright,  bitterly.  I  'spose  this  is 
the  place  you're  looking  for  as-like-as- 
not." 

"  Arrah,  thin  it's  the  right  place  that 
I'm  already  in — thanks  to  Misthress 
Judy  for  that.  And  thin,  there's  a  let 
ter  for  your  worship's  honor,  and  that's 
yer'self!" 

Wheelwright  took  the  despatch,  and 
at  once  perceived  from  the  superscrip 
tion,  that  it  was  a  missive  from  his 
counsel.  He  was  turning  upon  his  heel, 
but  Thady,  unwilling  to  retire  without 
a  fee,  arrested  his  retreat  by  saying : — 

"Faith,  thin,  but  I'm  thinking  your 
honor's  mimory  is  none  of  the  longest, 
and  that  a  thrifle  of  change  would  do 
me  no  harm  for  the  throuble  I've  had." 

Wheelwright,  hoping  that  he  was 
the  bearer  of  agreeable  tidings  from 
his  estates,  threw  him  all  but  his  last 
quarter,  and  Thady  took  his  leave  with, 


THE     MARCH      OF      MIND.  153 

"  Blissings  on  your  honor,  and  long 
life  to  ye ;  and  as  your  worship  is  a 
civil-spoken  gintilman,  may  be  yell 
not  think  it  bovvld  if  I  jist  hint  to  your 
honor,  that  if  Misthress  Judy  there  is  a 
servant,  she  needs  looking  to — and  bad 
luck  to  her !" 

Not  having  heard  the  street  dialogue 
already  related,  this  benevolent  caution 
was  lost  upon  the  husband,  who,  on 
opening  the  note,  found  it  as  he  had 
anticipated — a  summons  to  call  upon 
his  lawyer  in  the  city.  High  with  hope, 
therefore, — upon  the  pleasures  of  which 
he  had  been  living  already  too  long, — 
not  doubting  that  success  had  at  length 
crowned  the  exertions  of  his  legal 
advisers, — and  supposing,  therefore,  that 
the  school  was  just  dissolving  at  the 
fortunate  moment  when  it  was  no  longer 
necessary  to  his  support,  he  hastened 
across  the  ferry.  But  alas  !  Little  in 
deed  did  he  anticipate  the  cause  of  his 


154  THE    MARCH    OF    MIND. 

summons  to  the  city.  The  develop 
ment  fell  upon  his  disappointed  senses 
like  the  crash  of  a  thunderbolt.  In  the 
progress  of  his  investigations,  the  learn 
ed  counsel  had  discovered  that  the  ac 
complished  lady  of  my  friend,  was  none 
other  than  one  of  the  unmarried  wives 
of  the  lamented  Captain  Scarlett,  and 
that  the  legal  representatives  were 
already  in  the  secure  possession  of  his 
estates ! 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HE  LIVES  AS  HE  HAD  NEVER  EXPECTED. 

"  My  stars  shine  darkly  over  Kie"—Shakspeare. 
"  A  most  poor  man,   made  tame  by  fortune's  blows." — 
Idem. 

How  little  do  one  half  of  the  world 
know  how  the  other  half  live !  And 
how  just  the  remark  of  Goldsmith,  that 
they  who  would  know  the  miseries  of 
the  poor,  must  see  life  and  endure  it. 
More  especially  do  these  remarks  hold 
good  in  respect  to  the  inhabitants  of 
crowded  cities.  In  country  towns,  and 
small  villages,  every  body  knows  every 
body,  and,  very  commonly,  almost  too 
much  of  every  body's  business.  But  in 
large  cities,  the  people  are  huddled 
together  in  close  proximity,  and  are  yet 
as  much  strangers,  to  each  other  as 
though  divided  by  a  waste  of  wilder 
ness  or  waters.  The  rich,  who  fare 
sumptuously;  the  middling  class,  who 


156  LIVES    AS   HE 

have  enough,  and  a  little  to  spare ;  and 
the  squalid  wretch  who  would  be  over 
joyed  with  a  basket  of  coals,  and  a  joint 
of  meat;  may  all  be  found  in  the  same 
block,  and  yet  neither  one  of  them  know 
any  thing  of  the  comforts,  the  distress,  or 
the  affluence  of  the  other.  The  middling 
and  lower  classes  of  people  in  the 
country  are  prone  to  form  an  undue 
estimate  of  the  advantages,  and  the 
comparative  ease,  of  a  city  life.  Be 
cause  so  much  is  said  of  the  wealth  of 
cities,  they  imagine  that  all  who  dwell 
in  them  must  be  rich,  and  consequently 
have  no  hard  labor  to  perform.  But  it 
is  a  sad  mistake.  "  Great  cities,"  says 
the  philosopher  of  Monticello,  "are 
great  sores ;"  and  if  the  envious  and 
discontented  poor  know  little  of  the 
splendid  misery  ofJjie  fancied  rich, — 
of  the  number  of  aching  heads  and 
hearts  upon  beds  of  down, — much  less 
do  the  truly  rich,  living  within  great 


NEVER   EXPECTED.  157 

cities,  and  the  world  at  large  without 
them, — know  of  the  wretchedness  and 
the  crime,  the  poverty  and  the  woe,  to 
be  found  in  the  great  and  crowded 
marts  of  trade  and  commerce  in  every 
country.  Were  mankind,  in  general, 
better  informed  upon  these  particulars, 
there  would  be  less  of  envy  in  the  world, 
and  less  of  poverty.  There  would  like 
wise  be  fewer  people  "  well  to  do"  in 
the  country,  crowding  to  the  cities,  to 
become  beggars,  and  at  last  either  to 
find  dishonorable  graves,  or,  when  hon 
estly  dead,  to  merit  the  Italian  inscrip 
tion  upon  a  well  man  who  took  physic — 
"  I  was  well — I  wished  to  be  better — 
and  here  I  am." 

During  the  five  years  immediately 
succeeding  the  catastrophe  recorded  at 
the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  I  neither 
saw,  nor  heard  a  syllable  from,  the  sub 
ject  of  this  narrative.  The  winter  of 
1827-28,  was  one  of  extraordinary 
14 


158  LIVES    AS   HE 

severity  in  New- York.  The  month  of 
January,  in  particular,  was  unusually 
tempestuous  and  severe.  Those  of  the 
common  poor,  who  had  been  the  most 
improvident  and  reckless  when  they 
should  have  husbanded  their  earnings, 
were  brought  upon  the  public  bounty 
considerably  earlier  than  usual,  and 
backs  "hanging  in  ragged  misery"  were 
already  more  plenty  than  was  wont. 

It  was  on  a  bitterly  cold  Saturday 
morning  of  that  month,  that  my  old  and 
unfortunate  friend  presented  himself  in 
my  office — but  alas  how  changed  !  He 
looked  exceedingly  dejected  and  pov 
erty-stricken — as  though  what  little  of 
energy  he  ever  might  have  possessed, 
had  been  utterly  extinguished  by  the 
withering  touch  of  penury.  A  single 
glance  of  course  served  to  show  that 
matters  had  gone  hard  with  him — and 
that  if  "  the  world  owed  him  a  living," 
as  he  was  formerly  wont  to  boast,  it 


NEVER    E  XPECTED.  159 

was  turning  him  off  with  a  very  scanty 
one.  A  storm,  which  had  been  fiercely 
raging  for  several  days,  gave  no  signs 
of  exhaustion. — The  snow,  which  had 
been  falling  for  fifty  or  sixty  hours — not 
in  a  fleecy  shower,  but  mingled  with 
cutting  particles  like  hail — filled  the 
atmosphere,  and  with  each  successive 
gust  of  a  stiff  northwester,  was  whirled 
aloft  in  vast  curling  sheets  and  wreaths 
— or  driven  through  the  narrow  streets 
with  a  force  that  was  blinding  and 
almost  irresistible.  Nor  man  nor  beast 
ventured  forth,  save  from  dire  necessity, 
and  it  seemed  as  though  the  storm-king 
with  his  fiercest  aspect,  and  armed  with 
all  his  terrors,  had  made  a  conquest  of 
the  city. — Wheelwright's  left  arm  was 
in  a  sling,  and  his  tattered  garments 
afforded  but  a  sorry  protection  against 
the  rude  peltings  of  the  pitiless  storm, 
of  which  I  have  given  a  very  inadequate 
description. 


160  LI  VES    AS    HE 

After  the  ordinary  and  reciprocal 
inquiries  as  to  health,  &c.  had  been  in 
terchanged,  he  sat  several  minutes  with 
averted  eyes,  and  without  uttering  a 
syllable.  I  saw  that  he  was  embar 
rassed,  poor  fellow  ! — and  turned  to  the 
window — viewing  the  clouds  of  snow 
that  were  high  upborne,  like  a  canopy 
over  the  city,  or  playing  in  fantastic 
wreaths  as  the  wind  whistled  around 
the  cornices  of  the  contiguous  buildings 
— that  he  might  collect  himself.  At 
length  he  broke  silence  nearly  as  fol 
lows  : — 

"  I'm  afeard  you  will  think  I  have 
come  on  rather  curious  business-like — 
for  me." 

"  How  so  ?  What  is  the  case,  Mr. 
Wheelwright?" 

"Why,  I've  had  a  hard  life  on% 
since  I  seen  you,  when  my  school  was 

broke  up  ;  and  I've  called  to  see 1 

was  too  proud  once  to  come  of  such  an 


NEVER     EXPECTED.  161 

arrant — but  I  thought  'twas  likely  you 
would  not  see  a  poor  family  suffering  in 
such  a  storm  as  this." 

"  Surely  not — if  it  is  in  my  power 
to  render  assistance." 

"Well,  I  thought  as  much — and 
I've  called  to  see  if  you  have  not  some 
second-hand  clothes,  and  a  little  some 
thing  to  eat,  that  you  can  give  us — or 
any  thing  else  that  you  can  spare — for 
we  are  in  very  great  distress." 

"  Indeed — in  actual  want — of  food 
and  clothes,  did  you  say  7  What  has 
brought 

"  O,  don't  ask — that  woman  there — 
I  little  thought  I  should  ever  come  to 
this." 

"  Why  have  you  not  informed  me  of 
it  before?  Pray  what  is  the  matter 
with  your  hand,  doctor  T 

"  I  accidentally  run  a  gouge  through 
it,  and  hain't  been  able  to  do  any  work 
since.   We  had  nothing   to  live  upon. 
14* 


162  LIVES    AS    HE 

My  hands  were  my  only  resources  from 
day  to  day; — my  working  tools,  and 
every  article  of  furniture  in  the  house, 
to  the  last  blanket,  the  last  shirt,  and 
my  wife's  last  shawl,  have  been  pawned 
at  the  broker's,  to  enable  us  to  keep  the 
breath  of  life  in  us.  We  have  now 
neither  a  stick  of  wood  to  burn,  nor  a 
morsel  to  eat !" 

"  Can  it  be  possible,  my  dear  sir,  that 
you  are  reduced  to  a  condition  so  de 
plorable  1  Why  have  you  not  been  to 
see  me  sooner  7" 

"  I  was  ashamed." 

"  But  you  need  not  have  been.  You 
should  not  have  been  left  to  suffer  de 
privations  like  these." 

"  I  knew  that,  very  well ;  but  after 
all  that  has  happened,  I  wished  to  bury 
myself,  and  never  see  the  face  of  an  old 
friend  again.  I  hoped  to  live  through, 
until  my  hand  got  well,  and  then  I 
could  have  gone  to  work  again." 


NE  VE  R    EXP  ECTED.  163 

"Work?     What  work  7" 

"  You  know  I  had  partly  larnt  a 
trade  once — pity  I  ever  left  it ! — and  as 
I  retained  knowledge  enough  of  the 
use  of  tools  to  make  common  bedsteads, 
after  my  school  run  down,  and  my 
visions  of  property  all  vanished,  I  enga 
ged  in  that  business,  and  have  contrived 
to  get  a  poor  living  by  it  ever  since, 
until  I  cut  my  hand  so  dreadfully." 

"  But  your  wife — cannot  she  do 
something  with  her  needle  1" 

"What!  that  woman?" 

He  paused,  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 
It  was  a  bitter  exclamation,  from  the 
heart. 

"  No,"  he  continued.  "  She  has  no 
faculty  for  getting  along.  She  does  no 
thing  but  harass  my  life  out." 

"  A  misfortune,  in — 

"  True  enough,  I  missed  the  fortune ; 
and  I  should  not  have  come  to  you  now, 
but  that  we  are  freezing,  and  the  chil- 


164  LIVES    AS    HE 

dren  were  shivering  and  crying  for 
something  to  eat,  when  I  left." 

"  Children  !  How  many  have  you  ?" 

"  The  woman,  you  know,  had  one 
when  I  married  her,  and  we  have  had 
two  since.  One  of  these  is  dead.  I  am 
not  sorry.  Poor  little  fellow  !  he  is 
much  better  off." 

But  it  is  needless  to  continue  the 
colloquy.  My  heart  bled  for  him.  His 
tale  of  want  and  woe  was  told  with 
the  honest  simplicity  of  truth.  He  did 
not  shed  any  tears,  but  looked  as 
though  he  was  past  weeping — like  the 
personification  of  disappointment  and 
despair. 

From  his  relation  it  appeared,  that 
during  four  years,  my  unfortunate 
friend's  only  income  had  been  derived 
from  the  manufacture  of  the  common  ar 
ticle  of  furniture  already  mentioned.  His 
place  of  residence  and  workshop  were 
in  the  remote  eastern  part  of  the  city- 


NEVER     EXPECTED.  165 

He  had  never  the  means  of  purchasing 
the  materials  for  more  than  one  bed 
stead  at  a  time,  and  was  obliged,  from 
his  extreme  poverty,  to  carry  the  tim 
ber  on  his  shoulders  from  the  Albany 
Basin  to  his  shop — a  distance  of  two 
miles.  This  labor  he  performed  at  eve 
nings.  The  article  done,  he  had  then 
to  carry  it  to  the  furniture  auction 
rooms  in  Chatham-square,  for  sale. 
The  profit,  over  and  above  the  cost  of 
the  materials,  constituted  the  whole  of 
his  income: — sometimes  amounting  to  a 
dollar  upon  each,  and  sometimes  to  not 
more  than  two  and  six-pence — accord 
ing  to  the  run  of  the  sales.  And  thus  from 
day  to  day,  for  four  long  years,  had  the 
poor  fellow  been  living,  as  we  have 
seen,  without  allowing  the  friends  of 
his  better  years  to  know  where  he  was, 
or  in  what  business  or  occupation  he 
was  engaged.  Having  once  been  the 
cause  of  his  father's  ruin,  he  was  re- 


166  LIVES    AS    HE 

solved  not  to  call  upon  the  old  gentle 
man  again  while  he  could  possibly 
avoid  it,  or  preserve  life  without  it. 
The  motive  for  his  conduct  in  this  try 
ing  emergency,  was  honorable  ;  and  in 
the  present  hour  of  his  bitter  affliction 
I  felt  more  sympathy  for  him,  than  I 
had  ever  supposed  it  possible  to  enter 
tain  for  a  man  who,  in  times  past,  had 
made  such  indifferent  use  of  his  advan 
tages.  If  there  is  any  thing  in  this 
world  that  can  subdue  the  passions, 
damp  the  ardor,  or  quench  the  spirit 
of  a  man,  it  is  biting,  remediless,  hope 
less  poverty.  Many  are  the  minds,  far 
more  powerful  than  that  of  Mr.  Wheel 
wright,  which  have  sunk  under  its  chil 
ling  influence.  And  my  wonder  was, 
how  the  doctor  had  borne  up  as  well 
as  he  seemed  to  have  done,  under  the 
complication  of  calamities  which  had 
befallen  him. 

Having  heard  his  woeful  relation 


NEVER    EXPECTED.  167 

through,  I  did  what  any  one  entitled  to 
the  name  of  man,  would  have  done 
under  the  like  circumstances.  He  was 
provided  with  an  overcoat,  and  furnish 
ed  with  a  little  basket  of  provisions  j 
and  I  promised  to  call  in  the  afternoon, 
and  examine  into  his  condition  for  my 
self ;  albeit  one  of  the  ancient  writers 
hath  informed  us  that  "  he  that  spend- 
eth  his  liuelode  to  helpe  the  poore  at 
theyr  nede,  semeth  mad  vnto  hym  who 
hath  reposed  the  ayd  of  this  presente 
lyfe  in  worldlie  riches." 

The  melancholy  history  just  related 
by  my  unfortunate  friend,  threw  me,  af 
ter  his  departure,  into  a  train  of  mus 
ing  upon  the  vicissitudes  of  life>  and  the 
inequality  with  wThich  Fortune  distri 
butes  her  favors.  I  could  not  help  call 
ing  to  mind  Miss  Edgeworth's  admira 
ble  tale  of  Murad  the  Unlucky,  and  his 
friend  the  lucky  Saladin,  Like  the 


168  LIVES    AS    HE 

former,  Wheelwright  seemed  destined 
but  to  fall  from  one  calamity  into  an 
other,  and  effort  to  retrieve  his  affairs, 
did  but  plunge  him  deeper  into  the 
slough  of  misery.  I  could  not  but  per 
ceive,  however,  that  as  in  the  case  of  the 
persecuted  Mussulman,  the  misfortunes 
of  my  poor  friend  had  their  origin  in 
his  own  bad  management,  and  to  speak 
the  honest  truth,  of  common  sense. 
The  wound  in  his  hand,  indeed,  might 
perhaps  be  accounted  an  unavoidable 
casualty ;  but  had  it  not  been  for  his 
previous  errors,  this  misfortune  would 
not  have  proved  the  cause  of  such  hope 
less  penury  and  suffering. 

We  shall  see,  ere  we  close  our  tale 
whether  a  better  if  not  a  brighter  des 
tiny  did  not  await  him  in  coming  years. 
Meantime,  those  who  would  avoid  con 
templating  a  scene  of  suffering  like  that 
which  is  to  follow,  should  remember 


NEVER      EXPECTED.  169 

with  Seneca, — "  He  that  never  was  ac 
quainted  with  adversity,  has  seen  the 
world  hut  on  one  side,  and  is  ignorant 
of  half  the  scenes  of  nature." 

Too  many  there  are,  even  in  this 
boasted  age  of  benevolence,  who  are 
thus  ignorant  of  the  scenes  referred  to 
by  the  ancient  moralist — who  believe  it 
a  virtue  to  be  rich,  and  that  there  is  no 
sin  but  beggary.  "  When  fortune 
wraps  them  warm" — while  their  tables 
smoke  with  savory  viands,  and  the 
choicest  wines  distil  their  grateful  aro 
ma — they  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  every  sound 
of  distress,  exclaiming, 


-I  am  rich. 


And  wherefore  should  the  clamorous  voice  of  woe 
Intrude  upon  mine  earl" 

But  we  can  forgive  them,  as  their  own 
worst  enemies.  They  know  nothing  of 
the  luxury  of  doing  good,  and  when 
they  are  called  to  make  up  their  last 
account,  they  will  mourn  that  they 

15 


170  LIVES     AS    HE,   ETC. 

have  no  investments  in  those  funds  that 
never  fluctuate — in  that  bank  "  where 
moth  and  rust  doth  not  corrupt,  and 
where  thieves  do  not  break  through 
nor  steal."  Let  such  remember,  more 
over,  that  as  they  brought  nothing  into 
world,  so  they  can  carry  nothing  out  of 
it.  And  let  it  also  be  remembered,  in 
the  language  of  another,  that  were 
there  as  many  worlds  as  there  are  par 
ticles  of  sand  in  our  globe,  and  were 
those  worlds  composed  of  angel  gold  ; 
or  were  there  any  thing  in  the  wide 
extent  of  the  Almighty's  dominion, 
which  is  more  precious  than  gold,  and 
were  those  worlds  composed  of  that 
material,  all  melted  into  one  solid 
mass,  to  fill  the  coffers  of  a  single  indi 
vidual,  it  would  avail  him  nothing  in 
procuring  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  or 
in  affording  him  happiness  beyond  the 
brief  period  of  his  three-score  years 
and  ten ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THINGS     PROVE     WORSE     THAN     WAS 
EXPECTED. 

"And  euery  ioye  hym  is  delaied, 
So  that  within  his  herte  affraied 
A  thousande  tyme  with  one  breath, 
Wepende  he  wissheth  after  death, 
Whan  he  fortune  fynt  aduerse." — Gower. 

"Ah,  little  think  the  gay,  licentious  proud, 
How  many  pine  in  want,  *  * 

*        *        *        how  many  drink  the  cup 
Of  baleful  grief,  and  eat  the  bitter  bread 
Of  misery  !" 

NEVER  in  my  life,  in  any  place,  or 
under  any  circumstances,  had  I  before 
entered  a  human  abode  of  such  perfect 
and  entire  destitution  as  that  of  poor 
Wheelwright !  It  was  a  wretched 
apology  for  a  house,  at  best,  containing 
two  stories,  of  two  rooms  upon  a  floor 
each.  The  upper  apartments  were  oc 
cupied  by  several  poor  Irish  families, 


172  THINGS    PROVE    WORSE 

The  front  room  below  had  been 
Wheelwright's  workshop,  and  the  fam 
ily  lived  in  the  room  back  of  it.  Both 
looked  as  though  they  had  been  swept 
and  garnished  by  the  hand  of  Famine 
herself.  Not  a  single  article  of  furniture, 
of  any  description,  was  left !  Crouch 
ed  over  two  short  brands, — the  remains 
of  a  couple  of  sticks  of  wood  which  a 
poor  neighbor  had  given  them  the  day 
before, — were  Wheelwright  and  his 
wife,  shivering  with  cold.  In  one  cor 
ner  of  the  room  lay  two  or  three  bush 
els  of  chopped  straw,  in  which  they 
slept.  Not  a  bed,  nor  a  blanket,  nor  a 
chair,  nor  any  article  or  utensil  of  fur 
niture  whatsoever,  had  been  left;  all, 
all,  was  in  the  hands  of  the  remorseless 
pawn-brokers,  as  the  sufferers  showed 
me  by  their  certificates — pawned,  too, 
for  such  pitiful  sums  as  at  once  at 
tested  the  oppressive  and  disgraceful 


THAN     WAS     EXPECTED.  173 

system  of  avarice  upon  which  those 
establishments  are  conducted.  The 
storm  yet  howled  fearfully  without,  and 
the  hard  particles  of  indurated  snow 
were  sifting  through  the  interstices  of 
the  crazy  building.  The  eye  of  man 
has  seldom  rested  upon  such  a  scene  of 
stern  and  unmitigated  poverty.  Shy- 
lock  or  Sir  Giles  Overreach — aye ! — any 
body  but  a  pawn-broker — would  have 
melted  into  tears  at  the  spectacle.  The 
children,  almost  naked,  had  just  been 
taken  to  the  fire-side  of  a  poor  Irish 
neighbor,  to  keep  their  benumbed  bo 
dies  from  freezing  to  the  heart.  I  was 
appalled  for  the  moment,  as  I  gazed 
about  upon  this  unexampled  picture  of 
destitution.  Before  me,  seated  on  his 
haunches  upon  the  hearth,  was  poor 
Wheelwright,  resting  his  chin  upon  his 
hand, — and  "  the  woman" — unfortu 
nately  his  wife — by  his  side.  He  was 
moody — broken — crushed  ! 
15* 


174  THINGS     PROVE     WORSE 

"  Well !"  he  exclaimed,  as  I  ap 
proached  the  forlorn  couple — "  you  see 
what  I  have  come  to  !" 

I  saw  the  state  of  the  ease — the 
cause,  and  the  effect — at  a  glance — 
"  THAT  WOMAN  !" — as  he  had  denomina 
ted  her  with  such  emphasis  in  the  morn 
ing.  In  good  sooth,  I  liked  her  not. 
She  looked  hale  and  hearty,  notwith 
standing  their  destitution — was  ragged, 
and  none  of  the  neatest  in  her  person. 

I  entered  into  conversation  with 
her,  and  soon  discovered  that  she  had 
both  a  sharp,  and,  if  necessary,  an  art 
ful  tongue  of  her  own.  I  remarked  that 
she  appeared  to  be  in  good  health, 
and  might,  I  should  have  supposed, 
do  something  with  her  needle  toward 
the  supply  of  their  pressing  necessi 
ties.  But  her  excuses  were  many,  and 
were  uttered  with  genuine  Irish  elo 
quence  and  volubility.  The  principal 
of  these,  however,  were,  that,  what 


THAN    WAS    EX  P  E  C  TED  .  175 

with  taking  care  of  her  poor  dear  hus 
band's  wounded  hand,  and  looking  af 
ter  the  childer,  she  had  not  time,  and 
could  get  nothing  to  do  besides. 

"  Indeed,  your  honor,"  said  she,  "  and 
sure  we  had  everything  that  was  dacent 
about  us,  and  were  quite  happy  and 
comfortable,  considering,  until  my  poor 
dear  husband — God  bless  him,  your 
worship  ! — kilt  his  hand,  and  I  don't 
know  where  is  like  to  be  the  end  of  it." 

<:  But,"  I  remarked,  "  surely,  Mrs, 
Wheel wright,  you  could  have  found  time 
to  do  a  little  something — if  no  more 
than  to  buy  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  few 
coals  now  and  then,  to  mitigate  your 
sufferings." 

"  Fait,  your  honor" — for  if  the  woman 
had  ever  lost  any  portion  of  the  peculiar 
patois  of  her  own  country,  while  living 
in  Paris  as  a  femme  de  chambre,  or  with 
Capt.  Scarlett  as  a  mistress,  it  had  all 
returned  with  her  more  recent  associ- 


176  THINGS    PROVE    WORSE 

ations,  and  she  was  now  a  pure  Eme- 
rald: — "  fait,  your  honor,  said  she,"  u  and 
how  could  I  be  afther  laving  the  poor 
body  in  his  distress  to  go  out  afther  work, 
when  I  love  him  above  the  world  and 
all  that's  in  it  ?  And  then,  your  worship, 
I'd  no  clothes  that  was  dacent  to  go  out 
in,  and  to  go  to  jontlemen's  houses  with 
such  tatters  as  these,  Mr.  Wheelwright, 
says  I,  it  would  not  do  by  any  manner 
of  means,  says  I.  And  that's  the  rights 
of  it  from  end  to  end,  if  your  worship 
will  ounly  hear  to  me." 

Wheelwright  himself  was  evidently 
bowed  down  by  the  severity  of  his 
wants  and  the  depth  of  his  degradation. 

If  moral  energy  had  ever  been  one  of 
his  characteristics,  it  was  quite  clear 
that  its  fire  had  long  since  been  extin 
guished  ;  and  more  than  all,  it  was 
equally  evident  that  he  was  the  object 
of  domestic  tyranny.  But  he  uttered 
no  complaint,  and  indeed  scarcely 


THAN    WAS    EXPECTED.  177 

opened  his  lips,  unless  in  reply  to  the 
interrogations  put  to  him. 

My  first  business  was  to  rescue  the 
unhappy  sufferers  from  immediate  want. 
Had  the  woman  alone  been  concerned, 
my  solicitude  would  have  been  hardly 
discernible.  But  whatever  had  been 
the  defects  in  the  character  of  Wheel 
wright,  or  the  errors  which,  for  the  most 
part,  were  the  consequence,  the  wide 
contrast  between  his  present  and  past 
condition  was  truly  affecting.  For  his 
indiscretions,  never  involving  moral  obli 
quity,  he  had  most  grievously  answered. 
And,  besides,  was  he  not  "•  a  man  and  a 
brother  !"  There  is  no  more  charitable 
people  in  the  world  than  those  of  New- 
York.  Let  any  case  of  distress  be  pre 
sented — any  call  of  real  suffering — 
which  has  actually  been  ascertained, 
and  is  vouched  for  by  a  respectable  citi 
zen,  the  hearts  of  the  New-Yorkers 
will  instantly  respond  to  the  appeal. 


178  THINGS    PROVE    WORSE 

Two  or  three  hours  of  active  exertion, 
therefore,  enabled  me  to  obtain  the 
means,  and  procure  all  the  supplies  ac 
tually  necessary;  and  in  three  days' 
time  Wheelwright  and  his  family  were 
comfortably  furnished  with  bedding, 
clothing,  fuel,  and  provisions  for  the 
residue  of  the  season  of  snows. 

The  next  measure  resolved  upon,  was 
the  redemption  of  Wheelwright's  tools 
and  other  articles  of  furniture,  clothing, 
&c.,  from  the  hands  of  the  pawn-brokers, 
for  which  purpose  he  accompanied  me. 
The  object  was  accomplished  after  no 
little  trouble,  in  visiting  the  principal 
establishments  doing  business  under  the 
beautiful  sign  of  the  three  golden  balls, 
in  Chatham-street,  and  redeeming  one  or 
twro  articles  here,  another  there,  and  a 
third  or  fourth  somewhere  else.  But 
although  this  part  of  the  labor  was  an 
irksome  job,  attended  by  scenes  and 
objects  of  a  description  exceedingly 


THAN    WAS    EXPECTED.  179 

painful,  yet  I  was  enabled  to  read  some 
dark  pages  in  the  book  of  human  nature, 
which  will  never  be  forgotten. 

I  had  previously  imbibed  a  strong  pre 
judice  against  those  receptacles  of  the 
goods,  new  and  old,  of  the  poor,  the  mi 
serable,  and  the  vicious.     I  had  been 
told  of  the  system  of  universal  cheatery 
upon  which  they  practised,  and  the  en 
ormous  exactions  made  in  grinding  the 
faces  of  the  poor.    I  had  heard  described 
their  dexterity  in   the  substitution  of 
colored   glass  and  crystals,  for  gems, 
while  pretending  to  examine  articles 
of   the  latter   description  brought  for 
pledges,  and  was  prepared  to  encounter 
all  that  was  sinister  and  heartless.     But 
the  one-half  had  not  been  told  me,  and 
I  soon   found    that    my  previous   con 
ceptions  fell  far  short  of  the  reality. 
As  I  have  already  remarked,  I  had  oc 
casion  to  visit  several  of  them,  and  was 
detained  at  each,  by  the  delays  in  find- 


180      THINGS  PROVE  WORSE 

ing  the  articles  of  which  I  was  in  search, 
and  for  which  the  holders  had  doubtless 
flattered  themselves  no  inquiries  would 
ever  be  made.  The  press  of  business 
at  all,  was  another  cause  of  delay.  It 
really  seemed  in  my  eyes  the  most 
fraudulent  and  oppressive  business  in 
which  man  could  engage.  As  I  recover 
ed  Wheelwright's  articles,  one  by  one, 
it  appeared  at  once  that  the  most  out 
rageous  system  of  extortion  had  been 
practised  in  every  instance.  The  sums 
advanced  had  been  pitiful  in  amount, 
and  the  rates  of  interest  charged  exor 
bitant  beyond  belief.  O  how  does  ava 
rice  harden  the  heart,  and  dry  up  the 
current  of  human  sympathy  !  How  la 
mentable  this  accursed  thirst  for  gold  ! 

"  Wide,  wasting  pest !  that  rages  un confined, 
And  crowds  with  crimes  the  records  of  mankind. 
For  gold,  his  sword  the  hireling  ruffian  draws  ; 
For  gold,  the  hireling  judge  distorts  the  laws  ; 
Wealth  heap'd  on  wealth,  nor  truth,  nor  safety  buys  ; 
And  dangers  gather  as  the  treasures  rise." 


THAN    WAS    EXPECTED.  181 

And  at  every  one  of  these  dens,  what 
a  crowd  of  victims  were  collected  !  "A 
motley  company  indeed — black-legs, 
and  would-be-gentlemen — the  cheater 
and  the  cheated."  The  widow  parting 
with  her  last  trinkets,  or,  perchance, 
her  last  disposable  article  of  dress,  to 
procure  one  more  meal  for  her  famish 
ing  children  !  A  poor  consumptive  girl, 
with  the  hectic  flush  upon  her  wasting 
cheek,  applying  for  the  same  purpose ; 
and  the  griping  miser — very  likely  a 
woman  too ! — without  a  spark  of  gene 
rosity,  or  an  emotion  of  pity — reading 
the  condition  of  the  sufferers  from  their 
countenances,  with  the  coolest  imagina 
ble  calculation — thus  ascertaining  from 
their  looks  the  urgency  of  their  respec 
tive  cases,  that  the  utmost  possible  ad 
vantage  might  be  taken,  and  the  inten 
ded  cheat  be  made  the  greater.  The 
pick-pocket,  moreover,  the  thief,  and 
the  purloining  servant,  received  with 
16 


182     THINGS    PROVE    WORSE,    ETC. 

equal  readiness,  and  the  spoils  divided 
between  them,  with  the  fullest  under 
standing  that  no  questions  were  to  be 
asked  !  O  'tis  monstrous  !  "  The  of 
fence  is  rank,  and  smells  to  heaven  !" 

But  my  visits  to  these  establishments 
were  fruitful  of  incidents,  the  recollec 
tion  of  which  is  too  vivid  to  be  passed 
lightly  over.  And  as  the  present  chapter 
is  already  of  sufficient  length,  it  is  pro 
posed  to  appropriate  a  separate  one  as  a 
record  of  some  of  those  reminiscences — 
one  of  which  may  better  suffice  as  a 
temperance  lecture,  than  a  sermon, 
while  another  may  perhaps  interest  the 
reader  from  its  aspect  of  romance.  If 
the  reader  chooses,  he  can  pass  it  over 
altogether. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

SCENES      IN     THE     LOMBARDS. 

"  A  stony  adversary,  an  inhuman  wretch, 
Uncapableof  pity,  void  and  empty 
From  any  drarn  of  mercy." — Shakspearc. 


" there,   there,   there !    a  diamond  gone,  cost  me 

three  thousand  ducats  in  Frankfort !    The  curse  never  fell  oq 
our  nation  till  now."— Idem. 

"O  sailor  boy,  sailor  boy,  peace  to  thy  soul!" — Dibdin. 

To  one  who  would  study  human 
nature,  especially  in  its  darker  features, 
there  is  no  better  field  of  observation 
than  among  these  pawn-brokers'  shops. 

In  a  frequented  establishment,  each 
day  unfolds  an  ample  catalogue  of  sor 
row,  misery,  and  guilt,  developed  iu 
forms  and  combinations  almost  innu^ 
merable ;  and  if  the  history  of  each 
customer  could  be  known,  the  result 
would  be  such  a  catalogue  as  would 
scarcely  be  surpassed  even  by  the  re-* 


184  SCENES     IN     THE 

cords  of  a  police-office  or  a  prison. 
Even  my  brief  stay  while  arranging 
for  the  redemption  of  Dr.  Wheel 
wright's  personals,  afforded  materials? 
as  indicated  in  the  last  chapter,  for 
much  and  painful  meditation. 

I  had  scarcely  made  my  business 
known,  at  the  first  of  "  my  uncle's"  esta 
blishments  to  which  I  had  been  directed, 
when  a  middle-aged  man  entered  with 
a  bundle,  on  which  he  asked  a  small  ad 
vance,  and  which,  on  being  opened,  was 
found  to  contain  a  shawl  and  two  or 
three  other  articles  of  female  apparel. 
The  man  was  stout  and  sturdy,  and,  as 
I  judged  from  his  appearance,  a  mecha 
nic  ;  but  the  mark  of  the  destroyer  was 
on  his  bloated  countenance  and  in  his 
heavy,  stupid  eyes.  Intemperance  had 
marked  him  for  his  own.  The  pawn-bro 
ker  was  yet  examining  the  offered  pledge, 
when  a  woman,  whose  pale  face  and  at 
tenuated  form  bespoke  long  and  intimate 


LOMBARDS.  185 

acquaintance  with  sorrow,  came  hastily 
into  the  shop,  and  with  the  single  excla 
mation,  "  O  Robert !"  darted,  rather 
than  ran,  to  that  part  of  the  counter 
where  the  man  was  standing.  Words 
were  not  wanted  to  explain  her  story. 
Her  miserable  husband,  not  satisfied 
with  wasting  his  own  earnings,  and 
leaving  her  to  starve  with  her  children, 
had  descended  to  the  meanness  of  plun 
dering  even  her  scanty  wardrobe,  and  the 
pittance  for  the  obtaining  of  which  this 
robbery  would  furnish  means,  was  des 
tined  to  be  squandered  at  the  tippling- 
house.  Ablushof  shame  arose  even  upon 
his  degraded  face,  but  it  quickly  passed 
away ;  the  brutal  appetite  prevailed,  and 
the  better  feeling  that  had  apparently 
stirred  within  him  for  the  moment,  soon 
gave  way  before  its  diseased  and  insa 
tiate  cravings. 

"  Go  home,"  was  his  harsh  and  an 
gry    exclamation  ;    "  what   brings  you 
16* 


186  SCENES      IN      THE 

here,  running  after  me  with  your  ever 
lasting  scolding  ?  go  home,  and  mind 
your  own  business." 

"O  Robert,  dear  Robert,"  answer 
ed  the  unhappy  wife,  "  don't  pawn  my 
shawl.  Our  children  are  crying  for 
bread,  and  I  have  none  to  give  them. 
Or  let  me  have  the  money ;  it  is  hard 
to  part  with  that  shawl,  for  it  was  my 
mother's  gift ;  but  I  will  let  it  go,  rather 
than  see  my  children  starve.  Give  me 
the  money,  Robert,  and  don't  leave  us 
to  perish." 

I  watched  the  face  of  the  pawn-bro 
ker  to  see  what  effect  this  appeal  would 
have  upon  him,  but  I  watched  in  vain. 
He  was  hardened  to  distress,  and  had 
no  sympathy  to  throw  away.  "  Twelve 
shillings  on  these  things,"  he  said,  toss 
ing  them  back  to  the  drunkard,  with 
a  look  of  perfect  indifference. 

"  Only  twelve  shillings  !"  murmured 
the  heart-broken  wife,  in  a  tone  of  de- 


LOMBARDS.  187 

spair.  "  O  Robert,  don't  let  them  go 
for  twelve  shillings.  Let  me  try  some 
where  else." 

"  Nonsense,"  answered  the  brute. 
"  It's  as  much  as  they're  worth,  I  sup 
pose.  Here,  Mr.  Crimp,  give  us  the 
change." 

The  money  was  placed  before  him, 
and  the  bundle  consigned  to  a  drawer. 
The  pox>r  woman  reached  forth  her 
hand  toward  the  silver,  but  the  move 
ment  was  anticipated  by  her  husband. 
"  There  Mary,"  he  said,  giving  her  half  a 
dollar,  "  there,  go  home  now,  and  don't 
make  a  fuss.  I'm  going  a  little  way  up 
the  street,  and  perhaps  I'll  bring  you 
something  from  market,  when  I  come 
home." 

The  hopeless  look  of  the  poor  wo 
man,  as  she  meekly  turned  to  the  door, 
told  plainly  enough  how  little  she  trust 
ed  to  this  ambiguous  promise.  They 
went  on  their  way,  she  to  her  famishing 


• 


188  SCENES      IN      THE 

children,  and  he  to  squander  the  dollar 
he  had  retained,  at  the 'next  den  of  in 
temperance. 

While  this  little  scene  was  in  pro 
gress,  another  had  been  added  to  the 
number  of  spectators.  This  was  a 
young  man,  dressed  in  the  height  of  the 
fashion,  that  is  to  say,  in  a  be-frogged 
and  be-laced  frock  coat  with  a  standing 
collar,  a  pair  of  cossack  pantaloons 
tapering  down  to  the  foot  with  a  notch 
cut  in  the  front  for  the  instep,  and  a  hat 
about  twice  as  large  at  the  crown  as  at 
the  rim,  much  resembling  in  shape  an 
inverted  sugar-loaf,  with  the  smaller 
end  cut  away.  He  had  a  reckless, 
dare-devil,  good  humored  look,  and  very 
much  the  air  of  what  is  called  "  a  young 
man  about  town  ;?;  that  is,  one  who  rides 
out  to  Cato's  every  afternoon,  eats  oyster 
suppers  at  Windust's  every  night  after 
the  play,  and  spends  the  rest  of  his  time 
and  his  money  at  billiards.  I  had  cast 


LOMBARDS.  189 

my  eye  upon  him  occasionally  during 
the  affair  of  the  shawl,  and  saw  that 
he  took  a  deep  interest  in  its  termina 
tion.  The  moment  the  poor  woman 
was  gone,  he  twitched  from  Ills  neck 
a  gold  chain,  at  the  end  of  which  was 
a  small  gold  watch,  and  placing  it 
in  the  hands  of  the  pawn-broker,  with 
whom  he  seemed  to  be  on  terms  of  ac 
quaintance,  he  exclaimed,  "  Quick  now, 
Crimp  ;  thirty  dollars  on  that ;  you've 
had  it  before,  and  needn't  stop  to  ex 
amine  it." 

The  money  was  instantly  produced 
and  paid  over ;  and  the  young  man  of 
fashion,  crumpling  the  notes  up  in  his 
hand,  ran  off  at  full  speed,  first  looking 
up  and  then  down  the  street  in  a  man 
ner  that  gave  me  a  suspicion  as  to  the 
cause  of  his  haste.  I  took  the  liberty  of 
following  him  to  the  door,  and  was  in 
abundant  time  to  find  my  conjecture 
verified  by  seeing  him  accost  the  poor 


190  SCENES     IN    THE 

woman  who  had  just  left  the  shop, 
thrust  into  her  hand  either  the  whole  or 
part  of  the  sum  he  had  just  received 
on  the  pledge  of  his  watch  and  chain, 
and  then  hurry  away  to  the  other  side 
of  the  street,  without  stopping  either 
for  thanks  or  for  explanation. 

The  reverie  of  mingled  surprise  and 
admiration  into  which  I  was  thrown  by 
this  unexpected  manifestation  of  bene 
volence,  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  out 
cry  from  Mr.  Crimp,  the  pawn-broker, 
and  by  seeing  him,  with  a  look  of  wrath 
and  horror,  hurry  round  his  counter 
and  out  through  the  door,  upon  the  side 
walk,  where  he  stood  for  a  moment 
straining  his  eyes  down  the  street,  as  if 
in  search  of  the  kind-hearted  youth, 
who  had  by  this  time  disappeared  up 
one  of  the  cross  streets. 

"  The  villain/'  he  exclaimed  ;  "  the 
swindling  scoundrel!  Which  way  did 
he  go,  the  ungrateful  thief?  Tell  me," 


LOMBARDS.  191 

he  continued,  turning  to  me,  "  tell  me 
which  way  he  went,  and  I'll  give  you 
any  thing  you've  a  mind  to  ask.  Yes, 
I'll  give  you — half  a  dollar,  if  you'll 
show  me  where  he  is." 

I  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  all 
this,  hut  deferring  the  gratification  of 
my  curiosity  for  the  present,  pointed 
out  to  Mr.  Crimp  the  course  taken  by 
his  late  customer,  and  mentioned  also 
what  I  had  seen  take  place  between  him 
and  the  poor  woman.  The  informa 
tion,  or  perhaps  even  the  brief  space  em 
ployed  in  giving  it,  seemed  to  produce  a 
change  of  intention  in  the  mind  of  the 
estimable  gentleman. 

"  Ah  it's  no  use,"  he  said ;  "  he's  got 
off  clear  by  this  time,  and  my  thirty 
dollars  is  a  case.  But  I'll  find  him  yet, 
some  day."  And  thus  soliloquizing,  Mr. 
Crimp  returned  into  his  shop. 

The  explanation  for  which  I  was 
so  curious,  was  now  afforded  me.  The 


192  SCENES      IN     THE 

young  man  had  several  times  before 
deposited  the  watch  in  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Crimp,  as  the  quid  pro  quo  of  cer 
tain  needful  advances,  and  as  often  re 
deemed  it,  when  accident  or  luck  at 
the  billiard  table  placed  the  requisite 
funds  at  his  disposal.  Taking  advan 
tage  of  the  familiarity  that  had  thus 
grown  up  between  the  broker  and  the 
trinket,  as  a  means  of  dispensing  with 
the  usual  and  requisite  examination,  a 
gilt  chain  had  been  substituted  for  the 
gold  one,  which  had  been  so  often 
deposited  with  the  watch  ;  and  the  de 
ception  had  passed  unnoticed  until  it 
was  too  late.  The  watch  itself  was 
probably  worth  about  the  sum  ad 
vanced. 

There  was  another  case  of  a  very 
touching  description,  which  occurred 
at  the  place  of  my  next  visit.  It  was 
that  of  an  interesting  female,  of  about 
five  and  thirty,  and  in  the  garb 


LOMBARDS.  193 

of  mourning.  She  entered  the  place 
evidently  with  reluctance  and  timi 
dity,  and  could  hardly  make  the 
object  of  her  visit  known,  from  very 
emotion.  She  was  of  a  delicate  frame ; 
of  easy  and  rather  graceful  manners, 
and  but  for  the  ravages  of  care  upon 
her  countenance,  might  yet  have  been 
beautiful.  At  length  she  brought  forth 
a  ring  from  a  pretty  little  morocco  case, 
upon  the  pledge  of  which  she  wished 
to  realize  such  an  amount  of  money  as 
would  sustain  herself  and  children 
through  the  winter.  I  saw  that  it  was 
costing  her  a  pang  to  part  with  the 
gem ;  but  necessity  knows  no  law. 
The  eyes  of  the  extortioner  kindled,  for 
the  instant,  and  with  evident  exulta 
tion,  at  the  first  glance  of  the  jewel — 
but  they  fell  in  a  twinkling  as  he  as 
sumed  the  cold,  hard  aspect  of  his  call 
ing,  took  the  ring  in  his  fingers,  and 
holding  it  up  to  the  window,  pretended 
17 


194  SCENESINTHE 

to  examine  it — assuming,  at  the  same 
time,  an  air  of  affected  disappointment. 
He  thereupon  began  at  once  to  depre 
ciate  the  article — declaring  that  it  was 
nothing  but  a  Brazilian  crystal,  and  that 
he  would  hardly  take  it  at  any  price. 
I  saw  by  the  countenance,  and  the 
heaving  bosom  of  the  lady — for  such  I 
was  convinced  she  wag,  though  in  re 
duced  circumstances — that  she  was  bit 
terly  disappointed — having  calculated 
upon  realizing  a  considerable  sum  from 
an  article  which  she  had  supposed  of 
much  higher  value.  But  the  miser  was 
inexorable,  and  peremptorily  refused  to 
advance  more  than  four  or  five  dollars. 
Her  appearance  and  manner  at  this 
moment  were  affecting  to  a  degree. 
"  Well,"  said  she :  "  'tis  hard,  but  pa 
tience  must  endure.  I  have  left  my 
babes  a-crying,  and  I  must  do  it ;  and 
when  this  is  gone,  I  must  depend  upon 
Him  who  feedeth  the  young  ravens 


LOMBARDS.  195 

when  they  cry.  But,"  she  added, 
with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  he  said  it  was 
worth  a  great  deal  more  than  that." 
There  was  a  peculiar  tenderness  and 
affection  in  the  manner  in  which  she, 
involuntarily  perhaps,  made  this  refer 
ence  to  some  one  who  was  not  present ; 
and  the  rising  tear  trembled  and  glis 
tened  in  her  eye,  like  the  jewel  in  the 
miser's  fingers. 

I  had  seen,  as  the  sordid  wretch 
eyed  the  ring  with  secret  satisfaction 
by  the  window,  from  its  brilliance,  that 
it  was  a  gem  of  value.  It  glittered  and 
sparkled  in  the  light,  with  an  intensity 
that  nothing  equals  but  the  diamond ; 
and  I  was  determined  that  the  fair  and 
unfortunate  owner  should  not  be  thus 
imposed  upon.  Just  before  the  bargain 
was  completed,  however,  as  I  was 
about  to  interpose  myself,  another  gen 
tleman,  who  had  also  been  watching 
the  procedure,  stepped  forward  and  de- 


196  SCENES     IN     THE 

clared  that  that  beautiful  ring  should 
not  be  thus  sacrificed  to  the  rapacious 
Hebrew.  The  latter  at  once  endea 
vored  to  hasten  matters,  and  declaring 
the  bargain  to  have  been  completed, 
would  have  succeeded  in  thrusting  the 
jewel  into  the  drawer,  but  for  the  reso 
lution  of  the  gentleman,  who  seized 
and  saved  it.  The  wretch  muttered 
something  about  people's  interfering  in 
business  that  was  exclusively  his  own 
concern,  but  to  no  purpose.  The  poor 
widow  was  rescued  from  his  fangs; 
and  although  it  was  a  struggle  to  part 
with  the  ring,  which  indeed  contained 
a  choice  brilliant,  her  heart  was  glad 
dened  by  the  receipt  of  seventy-five 
dollars,  from  one  who  was  willing  to 
pay  its  value. 

The  tale  of  this  poor  lady  in  whose 
case  my  sympathies  had  been  thus  en 
listed,  was  not  without  interest.  She 
was  an  orphan,  daughter  of  a  Virginia 


LOMBARDS.  197 

planter  who  had  been  eaten  into  pover 
ty  by  his  own  slaves,  so  that  his  chil 
dren  were  left  portionless,  and  had 
been  married  when  young  to  one  of 
those  high-minded,  gallant  spirits,  who 
bear  their  country's  flag  so  proudly  on 
the  wave — -brave,  and  generous  to  a 
fault,  and  in  fact  one  of  those  who  al 
most  literally  "  spend  half  a  crown  out 
of  six-pence  a  day."  She  was  adored 
by  her  husband,  to  whom  she  early  pre 
sented  several  cherub-looking  sailor- 
boys,  and  while  he  lived  to  supply  her 
wants,  though  free-hearted  and  reck 
less  of  expenditure,  she  had  always 
enough  for  the  present,  and  "  a  shot  in 
the  locker,"  to  serve  while  he  was  toss 
ing  upon  the  main.  But  alas  !  she  had 
occasion  too  soon  to  deplore  the  capri 
cious  uncertainty  of  all  sublunary  en^ 
joyments. 

Never  was  a  more  beautiful  day,  nor 
a  more   gallant  spectacle,  than  when 
17* 


198  SCENES    IN    THE 

the  ship  to  which  Lieutenant was 

attached,  got  underway,  and  departed 
for  her  last  cruise  in  the  West  India 
seas.  Every  sail  was  set,  and  so 
clear  was  the  atmosphere,  that  the 
light  tracery  of  her  rigging  was  seen 
against  the  sky,  as  she  bore  down 
through  the  Narrows.  Maria  watched 
the  ship  intently  until  the  last  dark 
point  of  the  top-mast  disappeared  in 
the  distance.  How  her  bright  eye 
sparkled,  when  she  heard  the  praises 
of  her  husband's  carnage  on  deck  as  he 
assumed  his  duties,  spoken  from  the  lips 
of  friends  who  had  with  her  witnessed 
the  departure  of  the  ship  ! — But  before 
she  retired  to  rest,  tears  had  more  than 
once  usurped  the  features  which  were 
a  few  hours  before  dimpled  by  joy.  A 
strange  sensation — some  unusual  and 
undefinable  apprehension  of — she  knew 
not  what — had  taken  possession  of  her 
bosom,  and  she  closed  her  long,  silken 


LOMBARDS.  199 

eye-lashes  to  sleep  even  while  yet  she 
had  scarce  done  weeping. 

But  the  ship  assumed  her  station  in 
the  squadron  in  due  season,  and  every 
return  vessel  brought  letters  from  her 
Frederick,  full  of  affection  for  herself, 
and  kisses  and  remembrances  for  Jack, 
Tom,  and  the  baby.  Often,  moreover, 
did  they  abound  with  glowing  descrip 
tions  of  the  scenery  of  those  sunny 
West  India  climes,  through  which  he 
had  strolled  when  occasionally  on 
shore.  It  was  summer,  and  the  tropi 
cal  sun  was  reigning  in  his  full  glory. 
But  his  mind  was  enthusiastic  and  poet 
ical,  and  the  nights,  so  transcendantly 
beautiful  in  those  regions,  were  his  de 
light.  After  the  sun,  which  had  been  bla 
zing  with  irresistible  fierceness  in  an  un 
clouded  sky,  through  the  day,  had  sunk 
to  rest,  there  was  such  a  luxury  in  the 
enjoyment  of  a  tropical  evening  !  The 
clearness  and  brilliancy  of  the  heavens, 


200  SCENES     IN     THE 

the  serenity  and  soft  tranquillity  of  the 
atmosphere,  diffusing  the  most  calm 
and  delightful  sensations.  The  moon 
shines  out  with  a  greater  radiance  in 
those  heavens  than  in  ours,  and  when 
she  coquettishly  turns  her  back  upon 
this  side  of  our  mundane  sphere,  her 
place  is  well  supplied  by  the  superior 
brilliance  of  the  stars.  Such,  in  those 
clear  skies,  is  their  glittering  effulgence, 
that  the  visiter  from  other  latitudes 
would  scarce  suppose  them  to  be  the 
same  luminaries  that  sparkle  in  their 
own  heavens.  Venus — the  bright  and 
beautiful  divinity  of  love — appears  of 
far  greater  magnitude  than  here, — 
shining  with  a  much  greater  intensity 
of  brightness — so  strong  indeed  as  to 
cast  a  shadow  from  the  trees.  These 
things  were  all  described  by  Freder 
ick  to  his  Maria,  with  a  richness  and 
a  glow  of  language,  such  as  sailors  sel 
dom  use.  And  all  that  was  wanting  to 


LOMBARDS.  20l 

complete  his  happiness,  was  his  Eve  to 
stroll  by  his  side  among  the  groves  of 
citron  and  lemon— ^redolent  with  every 
fruit  that  is  inviting,  and  every  flower 
that  is  beautiful.  And  how  she  longed 
to  be  with  him  I  need  not  tell ! 

While,  however,  the  ship  was  yet  in 
those  seas,  cruising  in  the  gulf  of  Mex 
ico,  autumn  came  on,  and  with  it  the 
season  of  storms.  The  lofty  peaks  of  the 
stupendous  mountains,  in  some  of  the 
nearest  islands,  were  frequently  in  sight, 
perceptible  often  at  a  great  distance, 
from  the  peculiar  transparency  of  the 
atmosphere.  At  length  the  experi 
enced  navigators  discerned  celestial 
phenomena,  which  caused  them  to 
watch  the  heavens  with  greater  solici 
tude.  Piles  of  massive  clouds,  fleecy, 
and  of  a  reddish  hue,  were  observed  in 
the  morning,  in  the  south-eastern  quar 
ter  of  the  heavens,  and  the  crests  of 
the  mountains,  cloudless  and  yet  of  an 


202  SCENES      IN     THE 

azure   cast,   seemed    nearer   the   ship 
than  they  were  wont.     Soon  the  pil 
lowy  masses  of  vapor  began  to  move 
lazily  toward  the   mountains — flashes 
which  were  but  dimly  discerned  break 
ing  from  them,  followed  by  the  hollow 
and  distant  roll  of  thunder — sometimes 
so  distinctly  as  to  sound  as  if  reverbe 
rating  from  peak  to  peak  among  the 
mountains,  though  yet  at  a  very  great 
distance.      The   ocean,   too,  began  to 
heave  as  though  in  labor,  and  its  roar 
ing  was  borne  along  upon  the  freshen 
ing  breeze.     These  indications   spoke 
but  too  clearly  the  approach  of  one  of 
those  dreadful  visitations  in  which  the 
Almighty   so    frequently   displays   his 
power  in  the  West  India  seas,  and  pro 
claims   his  judgments  in  such   melan 
choly    dispensations.      The    wind    in 
creased,  the  roaring  of  the  ocean  deep 
ened  upon  the  ear,  and   all  hands   in 
every  craft  upon  the  gulf  were  engaged 


LOMBARDS.  203 

in  reefing  their  sails,  and  making  every 
thing  snug  for  the  onset. 

Nothing  can  be  more  fierce,  sudden, 
or  uncontrollable,  than  the  West  India 
hurricanes.     Electrical  in  their  origin, 
the  moment  the  spark  produces  a  com 
bination  of  oxygen   and  hydrogen,  the 
sudden   and    terrible  fall  of  hail  and 
rain  pouring  impetuously  down,  creates 
a  vacuum  into  which  the    air   rushes 
from  every  direction  with  tremendous 
velocity.     Sometimes  the   air,   by  the 
meeting  of  opposite   currents,  assumes 
the  form  of 'a  whirlwind:  a  dark  cloud 
preceding   it,  unrolling  itself  suddenly, 
and   mantling   the    whole   heavens   in 
gloom,    lightened    occasionally   by  the 
flashings  of  lurid  fire, — while   if   upon 
land,  houses,  corn-stacks,  cane-fields,  and 
even   whole  forests,  are   whirled  aloft 
and  scattered  to  fragments  in  an  in 
stant  ;  or,  if  upon  the  deep,  the  whole 
ocean  is  wrought  into  maddened  and 


204  SCENES     IN     THE 

foaming  fury ;  and  woe  to  the  vessel,  no 
matter  for  its  strength  or  magnitude, 
that  is  brought  within  the  vortex  of  the 
tempest. 

Such  was  the  fact  in  regard  to  the 
hurricane  of  which  I  am  speaking. 
Some  of  the  light  craft  then  upon  the 
gulf,  escaped  and  came  into  the  har 
bor  of  New-York.  They  reported  that 
never  within  the  memory  of  man,  had 
that  sea  been  the  scene  of  so  fearful 
a  tempest.  It  commenced  with  a  tre 
mendous  crash  from  the  heavens,  and 
the  gulf  was  almost  instantly  lashed 
into  a  foam  of  contending  currents.  At 
the  instant  of  its  commencement,  appa 
rently  in  the  very  focus  of  its  fury,  one 
of  them  saw  a  dark  object,  resembling 
a  shi£  of  war,  rise  upon  the  ridge  of  a 
towering  wave,  and  then  sink  with  a 
heavy  roll  into  the  trough  of  the  sea, 
whence  she  rose  no  more.  It  was  a 
fearful  night,  that  which  followed ;  the 


LO  31  BARDS.  205 

seas  rushing  and  doubling  onward, 
curling  and  foaming  and  breaking  with 
awful  majesty.  But  the  United  States 
ship  HORNET  was  never  heard  of  more. 
Her  gallant  officers  and  daring  crew 
— full  of  high  health  and  hope  but  an 
hour  before — were  all — all,  in  that 
dread  moment — without  one  instant  to 
bid  adieu  or  breathe  a  prayer — hurried 
to  their  doom ! 

But  to  return  from  this  digression. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wheelwright's  articles 
were  all  redeemed,  and  their  house 
comfortably  warmed  and  supplied  for 
the  winter,  as  I  have  already  intimated. 
And  in  addition  to  such  present  relief  as 
was  rendered  imperatively  necessary  by 
his  wounded  hand,  the  funds  contribu 
ted  for  his  benefit  enabled  me  to  lay  in, 
for  his  use  and  behoof,  ample  materials 
for  sixty  bedsteads — a  stock  in  trade 
rendering  him  a  rich  man3  compared 
with  what  had  been  his  temporal  con- 
is 


206  SCENES    IN    THE,    ETC. 

dition  for  a  long  while  before.  His  spi 
rits  in  a  good  measure  revived  at  even 
such  a  change  in  his  circumstances — 
and  his  wife  poured  forth  an  over 
whelming  torrent  of  Irish  blessings, 
with  thanks  to  "  his  honor,'7  and  "  his 
worship,"  without  number. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   END   OP     THIS    EVENTFUL    HISTORY. 

O  matrimony  !  thou  art  like 

To  Jeremiah's  figs ; — 
The  good  were  very  good  ; — the  bad — 

Too  sour  to  give  the  pigs. — Old  Saw. 

"  Slender,  I  broke  your  head — what  matter  have  you  against 
me  T—Shakspeare. 

ONE  of  the  most  amusing,  and,  in 
deed,  one  of  the  best  pictures  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  is  that  of  Garrick,  be 
tween  comedy  and  tragedy.  On  the  one 
side,  with  her  mask  in  hand,  stood  the 
presiding  divinity  of  comic  poetry,  coax 
ing  the  immortal  hero  of  the  sock  and 
buskin  with  her  archest  smiles ;  while 
on  the  other  stood  Melpomene,  rapt 
in  solemn  thought,  and  with  eyes  up 
raised  in  gloomy  grandeur,  pointing  the 
actor  to  a  loftier  walk  than  that  of  her 


208  THE     END    OF     THIS 

witching  sister  Thalia.  The  situation 
of  poor  Garrick  is  most  embarrassing — 
and  appears  the  more  so  from  the  pow 
ers  of  face  at  his  command,  as  delinea 
ted  by  the  artist,  whereby  he  is  repre 
sented  as  doubting  to  which  invitation 
he  should  yield,  while  with  one  half  of 
his  face  he  looks  the  deepest  tragedy, 
and  with  the  other,  the  merriest  co 
medy. 

Very  much  in  the  situation  of  Gar- 
rick,  as  thus  described,  does  the  bio 
grapher  find  himself  at  the  threshhold 
of  this  concluding  chapter.  It  is  not 
his  fault,  however,  that  comic  or  rather 
farcical  incidents  must  follow  so 
closely  upon  the  pathetic.  But  "  the 
course  of  true  love  never  did  run 
smooth"— a  fact  of  which,  as  the  rea 
der  has  already  seen,  my  unfortunate 
friend  Wheelwright  had  had  some 
knowledge,  early  in  his  wedded  life— 


EVENTFUL     HISTORY.  209 

and  of  which  he  was  convinced  over 
again,  soon  after  the  events  recorded  in 
the  last  two  chapters. 

It  was  on  a  clear  frosty  morning  in 
March,  that  one  of  the  watchful  guar 
dians  of  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  city, 
connected  with  the  police  establish 
ment,  did  me  the  unexpected  honor  of 
a  visit.  He  stated  that  a  poor  but  very 
decent  sort  of  a  man  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  watch  during  the  pre 
ceding  night,  and  had  been  committed 
to  Bridewell  by  the  sitting  magistrate, 
on  a  charge  of  assault  and  battery. 
According  to  the  report  of  Dogberry, 
the  man  was  "  quite  down-in-the-mouth 
about  it,  and,"  (he  added,)  "  he  con 
tests  that  he  is  entirely  hinnocent.  He 
also  says  he  is  acquainted  with  you,  and 
he  thinks  if  you  would  be  good  enough 
to  come  up  to  the  hall  and  see  him,  no 
doubt  that  you  would  bail  him  out." 

"  How  is  that,  my  friend  ?     A  man 

18* 


210  THE    END     OF     THIS 

taken  up  in  a  night-row,  and  now  in 
Bridewell,  and  says  he  is  an  acquaint 
ance  of  mine — eh  ?" 

"  So  he  says,  and  he  looks  as  though 
he  might  have  seen  better  days.  We 
have  to  deal  with  many  such — but  then 
he  don't  act  as  though  he  was  often  in 
such  scrapes,  no  how." 

"His  name?" 

"  Doctor — Wheel— Wheelwright,  I 
think  they  call  him." 

"  O — ah — yes  :"  another  incident, 
thinks-I-to-myself,  in  the  chequered  life 
of  my  unhappy  friend." 

"  And  a  striking  incident,  too,  ac 
cording  to  the  account  of  the  Irish  wo 
man  who  lodged  the  complaint." 

"  An  Irish  woman  !  Mischief  in  her 
proper  shape  again.  But,  my  word  for 
it,  if  it  is  my  quondam  friend  Wheel 
wright,  who  is  in  the  scrape,  he  has  not 
struck  any  body  or  thing — man,  wo 
man,  or  child." 


EVENTF  UL    H  I  STOR  Y.  211 

"  'Zactly  so  :  that's  just  what  he 
says ;  and  as  he  has  no  friends,  he  thinks 
you  might  stand  by  him  in  a  pinch,  if 
you  knew  as  how  he  has  been  in  the 
lock-up  half  the  night,  and  has  now 
been  walked  off  to  Bridewell." 

This  was  a  far  less  agreeable  call 
upon  my  attention  and  services  than  I 
had  ever  had  the  honor  of  receiving 
from  him  before ;  but  still,  knowing  the 
honesty  of  the  man,  and  his  pacific  cha 
racter,  and  fully  believing  in  his  repre 
sentations  of  innocence,  I  at  once  deter 
mined  to  inquire  into  the  circumstances 
of  the  case,  and,  if  necessary,  make 
another  effort  in  his  behalf. 

The  investigation  resulted  as  I  had 
anticipated.  The  unfortunate  hus 
band  now  opened  his  heart,  and  poured 
out  all  his  domestic  sorrows  and  tribu 
lations  before  me.  He  needed  not  to  tell 
me  that  he  had  not  married  a  fortune,  as 
he  had  supposed,  when  I  first  saw  him 


212  THE      END     OF     THIS 

in  the  hey-day  of  his  honey-moon  ;  but 
from  the  simple  tale  now  unfolded,  it 
seemed  that,  on  the  contrary,  he  had 
been  wedded  to  Mis-fortune,  and  all 
her  progeny.  The  rather  turbulent  la 
dy  of  Socrates — (unless  Mrs.  Xantippe 
was  scandalized  by  her  neighbors) — 
was  a  sweet-tempered  dame,  and  "  gen 
tle  as  a  sucking  dove/'  in  comparison 
with  the  vixen  who  had  been  harassing 
his  life  and  soul  away  for  years.  The 
only  peaceable  hours  of  his  existence 
were  those  in  which  she  was  too  much 
fatigued  with  liquor  to  annoy  him. 
When  awake  and  sober,  her  temper  was 
little  better,  and  her  tormenting  tongue 
seemed  to  have  been  hung  in  the  mid 
dle,  so  that  it  might  run  at  both  ends. 
It  is  related  of  Foote,  the  comedian,  that 
when  once  suffering  from  the  tongue  of 
a  shrew,  he  replied — "  I  have  heard  of 
Tartars,  and  Brimstones,  madam  ;  and 
by  Jove  you  are  the  cream  of  the  one, 


EVENTFUL     HISTORY.  213 

and  tliejlour  of  the  other.''  And  next  to 
the  Grecian  lady  above  mentioned,  the 
Tartar  who  bearded  Foote,  seemed,  in 
my  view,  to  be  the  only  parallel  of 
Mistress  Wheelwright,  of  which  the 
books  give  any  account. 

How  few  can  bear  prosperity  !  In 
deed,  although  we  all  covet  it  so  much, 
the  examples  of  those  ruined  by  sudden 
reverses  of  fortune,  would  probably 
present  a  greater  number  of  those  who 
have  been  raised  from  poverty  to  wealth, 
than  of  those  who  have  been  cast  down 
from  a  state  of  affluence  to  that  of 
penury.  An  illustration  of  this  propo 
sition  was  afforded  in  the  family  of  Mr. 
Wheelwright.  It  appeared  that  after 
the  change  recorded  in  the  last  chapter, 
from  a  condition  of  the  most  abject 
misery,  to  that  of  comparative  comfort, 
the  Doctor's  lady,  elated  by  her  pros 
perity,  began  to  take  airs  upon  herself, 
and  her  carriage  was  such  as  to  excite 


214  THE      END     OP     THIS 

the  jealousy  of  her  neighbors  up  stairs. 
The   consequences  were  a  speedy  and 
open  rupture,  so  that  occasional  hostili 
ties  were  waged  between  them ;  and  the 
civil  dudgeon  ran  so  high  that  all  at 
tempts  of  poor  Wheelwright  to  keep  the 
peace  were  abortive.     At  last,  on  the 
night  of  my  friend's  arrest,  one  of  the  la 
dies  from  above,  remarkable  for  the  di 
mensions  of  her  facial  organ,  descended 
to  his  apartment  in  a  tempest,  and  in 
sulted  his  wife.  Like  a  true  Amazon  as 
she  was,  the  latter  repelled  the  invader, 
pursued  her  in  her  flight,  and  like  Scipio 
carried  the  war  into  Africa,     The  ten 
ants   above  made  common  cause  with 
Mistress  Judy   Pettit,    and  the  gentle 
lady  of  Mr.  Wheelwright  was  in  turn 
discomfitted,  and  compelled  to  descend 
headlong  down   stairs,   in   rather    too 
quick  time  for  her  comfort,  with  a  ca 
taract  of  Irish  women  tumbling  after 
her.     Wheelwright  ran  to  the  rescue  of 


EVENTFUL      HISTORY.  215 

his  help-meet,  and  pulling  her  through 
the  door,  endeavored  to  shut  it  on  the 
instant,  to  keep   out  the  foe  ;    in  doing 
which  the  proboscis  of  Mistress  Pettit, 
which  was  truly  of  the  Strasburgh  or 
der,  was  unhappily  and  literally  caught 
in  the  door  crack,  and  beyond  all  ques 
tion  somewhat  injured  thereby.     In  the 
language    of  the   trumpeter's  wife   in 
Tristram  Shandy,  it  was  truly  "  a  noble 
nose,"  and  the  pinch  it  endured,  though 
transient,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  ra 
ther  severe  and  biting.     Its  fair  posses 
sor  therefore  ran  into  the  street,  smart 
ing  from  the  pain,  and  vociferating  al 
ternately  for   the  "  watch,"  and  "  Och 
murther !  I'm  kilt,  I'm  kilt,"  so  perti 
naciously  and  so  obstreperously  withal, 
as  to   wake  up   several   of  the  guar 
dians  of  the  night,  who   made  a  rally, 
and   carried  the  whole  party  to   the 
watch-house,   including    an    Irishman 
who  happened  to  be  on  a  visit  up  stairs, 
by  the  name  of  Timothy  Martin. 


216  THE     END    OF    THIS 

From  all  account,  the  morning  ex 
amination  before  the  sitting  magistrate 
must  have  afforded  one  of  the  most 
amusing  scenes  for  the  fancy  that  have 
recently  occurred  this  side  of  Bow-street. 
It  was  difficult  to  say  which  of  the 
ladies  was  the  most  clamorous,  Mis 
tress  Pettit,  the  complainant,  or  Mis 
tress  Wheelwright,  or  whether  other 
females  of  the  party  did  not  talk  as  loud 
and  as  fast  as  either.  Mistress  Pettit 
gave  an  account  of  their  neighborhood 
concerns  for  some  time  previous. 

"  Fait,  your  worship, "  says  she, 
"  we  was  always  afther  being  kind  to 
them,  when  they  had  not  a  faggot  to 
warm  them,  or  a  paratoe  to  ate ;  and 
then  she'd  come  to  me  sometime,  and 
bring  the  childer,  says  she,  for  she'd  two 
of  them  at  that  same  time — bad  luck 
to  her — and  this,  your  honor,  is  one  of 
them,"  (for  the  eldest  of  Wheelwright's 
children  had  been  brought  up  in  the 


EVENTFUL     HISTORY.  217 

medley;)  "and  says  I  to  Mistress 
Wheelwright,  says  I,  plase  your  wor 
ship,  you  may  come  with  your  childer 
and  warm  ye,  and  here's  a  drop  of  the 
crathur  that  Tim  Martin  brought  to 
me.  And  then  whin  she  wint  off  a- 
begging  as  no  dacent  woman  would, 
bekase  I  pitied  the  childer,  I  tould  Mrs. 
Wheelwright,  says  I,  that  they  might 
stay  with  me  till  ye  come  back  your 
self — and  may-be  ye'll  come  the  sooner, 
Mrs.  Wheelwright,  says  I.  And  come 
she  would'nt  by  no  manes,  but  was  out 
all  night  sometimes." 

"  Och  deevil  burn  ye,"  interrupted 
Mistress  Wheelwright,  "  if  ye  go  on  at 
that  rate,  I'll  tell  his  honor  of  the  pig 
ye  stole, — you  and  Tim  Martin,  ye 
did." 

11  Och  Murther,"  cried  Mistress  Pet- 
fit,  "  that  a  dacent  woman  like  I  should 
be  charged  with  staling  along  with  such 
a  spalpeen  as  Tim  Martin,  your  honor. 
19 


218  THE     END   OP   THIS 

Whereupon  up  started  Tim  Martin, 
exclaiming — 

"  Botheration,  and  that's  what  I  get 
for  kindness,"  says  he,  "  there's  grathi- 
tude  your  worship  ! — And  fait,  I'll  tell 
his  honor  of  the  money  ye  stole  in  the 
strong  box  that  I  left,"  says  Tim  Mar 
tin,  says  he. 

"Yes,"  interposed  Mistress  Wheel 
wright,  "  when  word  com'd  that  she'd 
gone  off  with  a  man  that  she  had,  and 
left  her  own  childer  for  me  to  care  for, 
bad  luck  to  her." 

"  Och !"  Mistress  Wheelwright,  says 
Mistress  Pettit,  says  she  ;  "and  you  and 
Tim  Martin's  lies  will  be  the  death  of 
me,  and  he's  selling  whiskey  without  a 
license,  yer  honor,  that's  Tim  Martin, 
he  is!" 

But  it  is  impossible  to  follow  these 
precious  parties  through  the  particulars 
of  their  examination  disclosing  the  mi 
series  of  their  neighborhood,  and  in 


EVENTFUL     HISTORY.  219 

their  own  words,  when  they  all  talked 
together.  I  must  therefore  content  my 
self  by  informing  the  reader,  that  the 
magistrate  interposed  as  soon  as  he 
could,  by  stating  that  he  did  not  sit 
there  to  hear  about  their  squabbles 
with  each  other  and  Tim  Martin,  but  to 
hear  what  they  had  to  say  against  the 
accused. 

Poor  Wheelwright  !  During  the 
whole  of  the  scene  just  described,  he 
sat  upon  one  of  the  benches,  his  eyes 
cast  upon  the  floor,  without  uttering  a 
word.  When  called  upon,  however,  to 
answer  to  the  charge,  he  could  only 
deny,  and  try  to  explain — but  Mistress 
Pettit  and  her  associates  were  too  much 
for  him.  And  besides,  deny  having 
molested  her  nose,  as  he  might,  the  as 
pect  of  the  member  itself  bore  abun 
dant  testimony  of  rough  usage  and  a 
narrow  escape — to  say  nothing  of  the 
Crimson  drops,  that  seemed  to  have 


220  THE      END      OF      THIS 

oozed  therefrom,  and  fallen  upon  good 
Mistress  Pettit's  neck-handkerchief. 
The  consequence  was,  that  the  magis 
trate  could  do  no  less  than  commit  him, 
although  from  Wheelwright's  subdued 
demeanor,  he  had  strong  doubts  as  to 
his  intentional  delinquencies.  Under 
these  circumstances,  I  found  but  little 
difficulty,  from  my  own  knowledge  of 
the  man,  in  persuading  the  magistrate 
to  release  him  on  his  own  recogni 
zance. 

#  *  *  #  *  * 
In  a  few  weeks  afterward,  Wheel 
wright  ascertained  that  the  always 
equivocal  virtue  of  his  wife  had  become 
of  so  little  consequence  in  her  own 
eyes,  as  to  release  him  from  any  farther 
obligation,  in  honor  or  in  law,  to  stand 
any  longer  as  its  nominal  guardian  and 
protector.  He  divided  the  children, 
giving  her  the  one  to  which  she  had  a 
fair  title  before  he  courted  her  fortune, 


EVENTFUL   HISTORY.  221 

— but  which,  poor  thing  ! — proved  to 
be  all  she  had, — and  took  the  only  one 
now  living,  which  bore  his  own  name, 
to  himself.  He  also  at  length  assumed 
sufficient  energy  to  divide  'the  house 
between  them — giving  her  the  out-side 
and  retaining  the  m-side  for  himself. 
Thus  ends  the  history  of  Doctor  Dan 
iel  Wheelwright  in  New- York. 

*         #         *         *         *         * 

"  It  is  the  end,"  says  the  Bard  of 
Avon,  "  that  crowns  all ;"  and  bringing 
these  "  passages"  in  the  life  of  my  friend 
to  a  close,  from  the  position  in  which  I 
shall  leave  him,  the  reader  may  perhaps 
agree  with  the  same  illustrious  poet : — 

"More  are  men's  ends  mark'dthan  their  lives  before." 

At  all  events,  we  will  "  let  the  end 
try  the  man."  The  latest  intelligence 
which  I  can  furnish  the  reader  re 
specting  him,  however,  is  this.  Having 
recently  made  a  flying  excursion  through 
19* 


222  THE     END   OF     THIS 

the  valley  of  the  Mohawk — visited  the 
old  baronial  castle  of  Sir  William 
Johnson,  and  from  thence  struck  across 
to  the  south  through  the  Schoharie-kill 
valley,  to  explore  the  wonders  of  the 
great  cavern  of  the  Helderbergs,  an  ac 
cident  to  the  light  vehicle  drawn  by  my 
coal-black  steed,  on  my  return,  obliged 
me  to  call  upon  a  coachmaker  in  the 
first  city  west  of  Albany.  On  arriving 
at  the  shop,  and  inquiring  for  the  prin 
cipal  of  the  establishment,  I  was  direct 
ed  to  an  athletic  man  engaged  with  his 
whole  attention,  in  giving  the  finishing 
strokes  to  a  substantial  coach-wheel. 
Judge  of  my  astonishment,  as  he  look 
ed  up,  on  beholding  none  other  than  the 
hero  of  the  present  memoir,  in  his  own 
proper  person !  His  sleeves  were  roll 
ed  up  to  his  shoulders ;  his  complexion 
was  ruddy ;  and  a  cheerful  smile  light 
ed  up  his  countenance,  such  as  I  had 
not  seen  playing  there  for  many  a  year 


EVENTFUL     HISTORY.  223 

— never,  in  fact,  since  he  became  ac 
quainted  with  "  that  woman  there." 
Every  thing  about  him  bore  the  marks 
of  industry  and  consequent  thrift.  "Ah, 
Mr.  Doolittle  !  is  that  you  ?"  he  ex 
claimed,  as  he  wiped  away  the  large 
drops  of  perspiration  that  stood  upon 
his  face.  Indeed,  he  was  quite  glad  to 
see  me;  and  after  interchanging  a 
few  remarks  of  mutual  surprise  at  such 
an  unexpected  though  agreeable  meet 
ing,  and  after  briefly  relating  what  had 
been  his  personal  history  since  I  had 
last  seen  him  under  the  cloud,  he  ob 
served, — "  You  see  I  have  gone  clean 
round  l  THE  CIRCLE,'  arid  am  at  the  old 
spot  again — my  father's  shop.  I  have 
always  told  you  that  l  THE  WORLD  OWED 
ME  A  LIVING.'  But  the  mischief  on't 
was,  I  always  went  the  wrong  way  to 
work  to  obtain  it.  I  believe,  however, 

that  I  have  got  about  right  at  last." 

*         *         *         *         *         * 

The  reader  of  the  preceding  narra- 


224  THE      END      OF      THIS 

tive,  may  perhaps  suppose  that  the  ma 
terials  of  which  it  is  framed,  are  such 
unsubstantial  stuff  as  dreams  are  made 
of.  I  beg  leave,  however,  at  the  close, 
to  assure  him  of  his  error.  With  the 
single  abatement  that  names  are  chang 
ed,  and  places  are  not  precisely  desig 
nated,  every  essential  incident  that  I 
have  recorded,  actually  occurred,  much 
as  I  have  related  it,  to  a  person  who,  if 
not  now  living,  certainly  was  once,  and 
most  of  them  under  my  own  observation. 
As  Scott  remarks,  at  the  close  of  the 
Bride  of  Lammermoor,  "it  is  AN  OWER 


TRUE    TALE." 


The  moral  is  briefly  told.  Let  the 
young  man  remember  that  it  requires 
not  actual  vice  to  expose  him  to  all 
that  is  humiliating  and  painful  in  po 
verty.  He  may  be  assured  of  misery 
enough,  if  he  merely  neglects  the  ad 
vantages  which  a  kind  Providence  has 
placed  within  his  power. 

Let  the  parent  learn,  before  he  re- 


EVENTFUL    HISTORY.  225 

solves  to  educate  his  son,  the  import 
ance  of  ascertaining  whether  his  son 
was  ever  designed  for  professional  life. 
The  weak  vanity  of  a  parent  has  fre 
quently  ruined  his  son,  and  brought 
down  his  own  gray  hairs  with  sorrow 
to  the  grave. 


THE    END, 


WORKS  RECENTLY  PUBLISHED 

BV 

LEAVITT,    LORD    &    CO 

WITH  SOME  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTICES  OF  THEM. 


SHIP  AND  SHORE,  or  Leaves  from  the  Journal  of  a 

Cruise  to  the  Levant — by  an  officer  of  the  Navy. 

Another  contribution  from  a  source,  to  which  nobody  would  have 
thought  of  turning,  but  a  few  years  ago  ;  but  which  is  now  beginning 
to  yield  fruit  abundantly  and  of  an  excellent  flavor,  sound,  wholesome 
and  trustworthy ;  not  those  warm  cheeked  and  golden  pippins  of  the 
Red  Sea,  which  '  turn  to  ashes  on  the  lips' — but  something  you  may 
bite  with  all  your  strength,  of  a  grapy,  and  oftentimes  of  a  peachy 
flavor.  The  preface  itself  is  a  gem. — New-England  Galaxy. 

This  book  is  written  with  sprightliness  and  ease,  and  may  justly 
claim  to  be  considered  an  agreeable  as  well  as  an  instructive  compan 
ion.  It  is  inscribed  in  a  brief  but  modest  dedication  to  Mrs.  E.  D.  Reed — 
a  lady  of  uncommon  refinement,  of  manners  and  intellectual  accom 
plishments.  The  descriptions  of  Madeira  and  Lisbon  are  the  best  we 
have  read.  The  pages  are  uniformly  enriched  with  sentiment,  or  enli 
vened  by  incident.  The  author,  whoever  he  is,  is  a  man  of  sentiment, 
taste  and  feeling. — Boston  Courier. 

MEMOIRS  OF  MRS.  WINSLOW,  late  Missionary  to 
India,  by  her  husband,  Rev.  Miron  Winslow — in  a  neat  12mo, 
with  a  Portrait. 

The  book  contains  a  good  history  of  that  mission,  including  the 
plan  and  labors  of  the  Missionaries,  and  the  success  attending  them, 
together  with  almost  every  important  event  connected  with  the  mission. 
It  also  presents  much  minute  information  on  various  topics  which  must 
be  interesting  to  the  friends  of  missions,  relating  to  the  character,  cus 
toms  and  religion  of  the  people — their  manner  of  thinking  and  living  : 
and  the  scenery  of  their  country  and  its  climate.  It  also  describes  the 
perplexities  and  encouragements  of  Missionaries  in  all  the  departments 
of  their  labor,  and  throws  open  to  inspection  the  whole  interior  of  a 
mission  and  a  mission  family,  exhibiting  to  the  reader  -what  missionary 
work  and  missionary  life  are,  better  perhaps  than  any  thing  before 
published . — Missionary '  Herald. 

Mrs.  Winslow  would  have  been  a  remarkable  character  under  any 
circumstances,  and  in  any  situation.  Had  she  not  possessed  a  mind 
of  unusual  power  and  decision,  she  never  could  have  triumphed  over 


the  obstacles  which  were  thrown  in  her  way.  We  hope  that  in  this* 
memoir  many  a  pious  young  lady,  will  find  incitements  to  prayerfulnesa 
and  zeal — and  that  our  readers  will  enjoy  the  privilege  of  reading  all 
the  pages  of  this  interesting  volume. — Abbott's  Magazine. 

PASTOR'S  DAUGHTER— or  the  Way  of  Salvation  ex- 
plained  to  a  Young  Inquirer ;  from  reminiscences  of  the  conver 
sations  of  the  late  Dr.  Payson  with  his  daughter. 

ZINZENDORFF,  a  new  original  Poem— by  Mrs.  L.  H. 
Sigourney,  with  other  Poems,  12mo.  This  book  is  in  a  neat 
style,  and  well  calculated  for  Holiday  presents. 

HARLAN  PAGE'S  MEMOIRS,  one  of  the  most  useful 
books  ever  published.  * 

There  has  been  much  fear  that  the  attention  of  the  church  was 
becoming  too  exclusively  turned  towards  the  great  external  forms  of  sin. 
These  fears  are  not  groundless.  Here,  however,  is  one  remedy.  The 
circulation  of  such  a  work  as  this,  holding  up  a  high  standard  of  ardent 
personal  piety,  and  piety,  too,  showing  itself  in  the  right  way — by  quiet, 
unpretending  efforts  to  spread  the  kingdom  of  Christ  from  soul  to 
soul. — Abbott's  Magazine. 

COMMENTARY  ON  THE  BOOK  OF  PSALMS ;   on 

a  plan  embracing  the  Hebrew  Text,  with  a  New  Literal  Version. 
By  George  Bush,  Prof,  of  Heb.  and  Orient.  Lit.  in  the  New- 
York  City  University. 

This  commentary,  although  it  every  where  'discovers  evidence  of 
highly  respectable  research,  is  not  designed  exclusively  for  the  use  of 
mere  biblical  critics.  It  is  true  the  author  has  constant  recourse  to  the 
Hebrew  and  to  ancient  translations  and  commentaries,  &c.  in  the  ex 
planation  of  difficult  passages  :  but  he  does  it  with  such  clearness  of 
perception  and  such  tact  of  language  that  even  unlettered  readers  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  profited  by  his  comments.  He  has  hit  with  an  admira 
ble  degree  of  precision,  the  happy  medium  between  a  commentary  pure 
ly  scholastic  and  critical,  which  could  be  interesting  to  only  a  few  very 
learned  men,  and  one  exclusively  practical,  which  would  be  likely  to  be 
unsatisfactory  to  men  of  exact  and  scrutinizing  minds.  It  is  a  pleas 
ing  circumstance,  although  some  perhaps  may  be  disposed  to  make  it 
a  ground  of  carping  and  disparagement,  that  the  work  is  an  American 
one.  It  is  written  in  our  own  land  and  by  one  of  our  own  beloved  breth 
ren,  and  is  therefore  entitled  on  the  ground  of  country  and  patriotism,  as 
wen  as  of  religion,  to  all  that  kindness  and  favor  of  reception,  which  may 
be  justified  by  its  intrinsic  merits.  The  work  is  published  in  a  highly 
creditable  style  by  the  house  of  Leavitt,  Lord  &  Co.  New- York. — 
Christian  Mirror. 

We  have  spent  so  much  time,  delightfully,  in  reading  this  number, 
that  we  have  little  left  for  description  of  its  contents.  We  have  first 
an  admirable  preface  of  two  pages,  stating  the  plan  and  object  of  the 
work.  Persons  wishing  to  revive  their  knowledge  of  neglected  Hebrew, 
or  desirous  to  learn  it  anew  without  a  teacher,  can  find  no  book  better 
adapted  to  facilitate  the  acquisition  than  this,  in  addition  to  a  grammar 
and  dictionary. 

The  good  sense  of  Mr.  Bush,  is  well  indicated  by  his  remarks  on  the 
word  Selah  where  it  first  occurs.  No  mere  empiric  would  have  made 
Buch  an  acknowledgment. — Ib. 


While  the  work  is  adapted  to  be  a  real  treat  more  particularly  for 
scholars,  it  is  so  conducted  that  readers  merely  of  the  English  version 
can  hardly  fail  to  receive  from  it  much  profit  and  delight. — Pittsburgh 
Friend. 

We  have  not  examined  critically  all  the  notes,  but  we  have  examined 
them  enough  to  satisfy  ourselves  of  the  author's  competency  to  his 
work  and  of  his  fidelity. — Christian  Register. 

The  mechanical  execution  of  the  work  is  beautiful,  particularly  the 
Hebrew  text,  and  fully  equal  to  any  thing  that  has  come  from  the 
Andover  Press,  which  hitherto  has  stood  unrivalled  in  this  country,  for 
biblical  printing.  The  introduction  and  notes  give  evidence  of  laborious 
and  patient  investigation,  extensive  biblical  learning,  and  heartfelt  piety. 
It  promises  to  be  a  work  of  great  value  and  we  hope  it  will  meet  with 
ample  encouragement.—  Cincinnati  Journal. 

A  GRAMMAR  OF  THE  HEBREW  LANGUAGE,  with 
a  brief  Chrestomathy  for  the  use  of  beginners,  by  George  Bush, 
Prof.  Heb.  and  Orient.  Lit.  in  the  N.  Y.  city  University. 

We  hail  sincerely  this  finely  executed  volume,  with  its  tasteful  dis 
play  of  the  University  front  labelled  in  gilt  on  the  back.  But  the  out 
ward  dress  is  a  matter  of  minor  moment.  It  is  the  marrow  of  the  book 
which  gives  us  pleasure.  That  it  is  calculated  to  be  an  important  ac 
cession  to  the  elementary  works  on  Hebrew,  no  one  acquainted  with 
the  ripe  scholarship  of  Prof.  B.  can  doubt,  much  less  any  one  who  has 
examined  the  book.  The  main  object  of  the  author  in  preparing  it,  as 
\ve  learn  from  his  well  written  preface,  was  to  facilitate  the  acquisition 
•of  the  holy  tongue  by  the  simplification  of  its  elements.  With  the 
book  as  a  guide,  the  student  will  find  the  entrance  upon  the  language 
instead  of  difficult  and  repulsive,  easy  and  inviting.  Taken  altogether, 
we  regard  the  grammar  of  Prof.  B.  as  eminently  adapted  to  the  use  of 
students  in  our  Theological  Seminaries;  and  we  see  not  why  it  should 
not  successfully  compete  with  the  ablest  of  its  predecessors.  In  addi 
tion  to  its  intrinsic  rights  it  has  moreover  the  recommendation  of  being 
sold  at  the  low  price  of  81  25.— N.  Y.  Evangelist. 

It  is  enough  to  say  for  the  information  of  students  in  this  most  in 
teresting  and  valuable  department  of  human  (rather  divine)  knowledge, 
that  in  this  grammar  they  will  find  all  the  information  requisite  for 
ordinary  purposes  in  a  form  more  accessible  and  inviting  than  hasusual- 
ly  been  given  it.  Minor  recommendations  are,  the  inviting  character  of 
the  print,  and  the  moderate  price  of  81  25  (the  ehrestomathy  being  part 
of  the  same  volume.)  Students  in  Hebrew,  especially  if  they  have 
made  trial  of  other  grammars,  will  deem  this  work  a  valuable  acces 
sion  to  our  facilities  for  the  acquisition  of  this  original  and  sacred  tongue. 
It  need  scarce  be  add.ed  that  this  commendation  is  given  without  any 
disposition  to  injure  the  deserved  repute  of  the  almost  father  of  Hebrew 
literature  in  this  country.  He  will  not  surely,  regret  that  a  spirit  which 
has  done  so  much  to  promote,  should  dey.elop  itself  in  new  and  felici 
tous  attempts  to  improve  the  field  that  he  so  arduously  and  successfully 
cultivates. — N.  Y.  Churchman, 

*  Prof.  Stuart's  grammar  is  full  and  copious.  Prof.  Bush  bears  tes 
timony  to  its  merit,  and  observes  that  his  design  has  been,  by  a  greater 
simplification  of  the  elements,  to  produce  a  work  better  adapted  to  the 
wants  of  those  who  are  beginning  a  course  of  careful  study  of  the 
language,  while  the  grammar  of  Prof.  Stuart,  which  leads  at  once 
into  the  deeper  complexities  of  the  language,  answers  in  a  great  degree 
thepurppse  of  an  ample  Thesaurus  to  the  advanced  student,  We  believe 


there  is  a  greater  simplification,  combined  with  as  mnch  fullness  and 
detail  as  are  requisite  to  aid  the  student  in  attaining  an  accurate  knowN 
edge  of  the  language.  We  are  glad  to  see  that  Prof.  Bus-h  has  returned, 
or  rather  adheres  to  the  old  system  of  the  distinction  of  vowels  into 
lone:  and  short.  It  has  always  appeared  to  us  that  the  change  adopted 
by  Prof.  Stuart  from  Geseriius,  substituting  for  the  distinction  into 
long  and  short  vowels,  a  classification  into  three  analogous  orders, 
brought  with  it  much  greater  complexity  without  any  adequate  com 
pensation  in  the  advantage  which  might  result  from  it. —  Christian 
Intelligencer. 

His  grammar  is  more  intelligible  and  contains  less  of  unnecessary 
and  doubtful  matter,  than  any  other  equally  complete  work  with  which 
we  are  acquainted.  We  have  no  doubt  that  its  circulation  will  prove  an 
important  means  of  recommending  the  study  of  the  Hebrew  language. 
— *A~.  Y.  Observer. 

HJf  The  publishers  are  happy  to  state,  from  information  recently 
received  from  the  author,  that  the  above  work  has  been  adopted  as  the 
text-book  on  Hebrew  Grammar  at  the  Theological  Seminary,  Prince 
ton,  N.  J.,  and  that  it  is  under  consideration,  with  a  like  view,  at  seve 
ral  other  institutions  in  the  country. 

FEMALE  STUDENT.— LECTURES  TO  YOUNG  LA 
DIES,  comprising-  Outlines  and  Applications  on  the  different 
branches  of  Female  Education.  For  the  use  of  Female 
Schools,  and  private  Libraries  ;  delivered  to  the  Pupils  of  the 
Troy  Female  Seminary.  By  Mrs.  Almira  H.  Lincoln  Phelps1 
late*  Vice  Principal  of  that  Institution  :  Author  of  Familiar 
Lectures  on  Botany,  etc. 

This  lady  is  advantageously  known  as  the  writer  of  "  Familiar 
Lectures  on'Botany,"  and  other  popular  works  for  the  use  of  students 
and  the  young  generally.  Her  present  work  may  be  safely  commend 
ed  to  the  class  for  whom  it  is  more  especially  designed,  arid  to  the  use 
of  schools  in  particular,  asone  of  various  interest,  and  of  very  judicious 
and  useful  composition. —  Evening  Gazette. 

We  recommend  the  work  to  teachers  and  all  others  who  are  sensi 
ble  of  the  vast  amount  of  influence  which  woman  exerts  on  society, 
and  how  inadequately  she  has  hitherto  in  general  been  prepared  to  make 
that  influence  beneficial  to  our  race. — Boston  Mercantile  Journal. 

Her  views  of  the  various  methods  of  instructing  are  practical,  for 
they  are  the  results  of  experience.  To  parents,  particularly  mothers  de 
sirous  of  pursuing  the  most  judicious  course  in  the  education  of  their 
children,  I  would  recommend  this  book  as  useful  beyond  any  other 
I  am  acquainted  with,  in  arming  them  against  that  parental  blindness 
from  which  the  best  of  parents  are  not  wholly  exempt  and  which  often 
leads  them  unawares  to  injure  in  various  ways  the  character  of  their 
children  and  lay  the  foundation  of  future  misfortune  for  their  offspring 
and  sorrow  for  themselves.  To  young  women  who  cannot  afford  the 
expense  of  attending  such  schools  as  afford  the  highest  advantages, 
Mrs.  P.'s  lectures  afford  substantial  aid  in  the  work  of  self -education. 
Young  Ladies  about  to  go  abroad  to  schools  or  those  already  from 
home,  may  consult  this  book  as  they  would  a  judicious  mother,  or 
faithful  and  experienced  friend:  it  will  warn  them  of  the  dangers 
to  which  they  will  be  exposed,  or  the  faults  into  which  they  are  liable 
to  fall,  so  that  being  "forewarned"  they  may  be  forearmed  to  escape 


them.— In  my  opinion  the  peculiar  tendency  of  this  'work  is  to  produce 
in  the  mind  that  "humility"  which  "goes  before  honor,1'  to  impart 
to  the  thoughtless,  a  sense  of  the  awful  restraints  of  morality. — Mrs. 
Willard,  Prin.  Troy  Female  Seminary. 

The  present  work  is  intended  to  unfold  the  natural  objects  of  female 
education.  This  is  accomplished  in  a  series  of  lectures  written  .in  a 
perspicuous,  pleasing  style,  and  treating  of  the  various  studies  pursued 
in  a  well  regulated  school  for  young  ladies.  It  is  really  and  truly  what 
it  proposes  to  be,  a  guide  in  the  intellectual  education  of  woman,  and 
will,  we  have  no  doubt,  become  a  standard  work  in  our  schools  and 
families.— Ladies'  Magazine. 

We  think  this  plan  is  generally  executed  in  a  manner  calculated 
to  instruct  pupils  and  to  furnish  useful  hints  and  maxims  for  teachers. 
We  can  cordially  recommend  the  work,  generally,  as  sound  in  its  prin 
ciples  of  education,  interesting  in  its  style,  and  excellent  in  its  spirit — a 
valuable  gift  to  pupils  and  teachers. — Annals  of  Education. 

We  know  not  when  we  met  with  a  book  which  we  have  perused 
with  more  pleasure,  or  from  which  we  have  derived  more  profit.  The 
authoress  is  evidently  possessed  of  a  vigorous  understanding,  with  just 
so  much  of  imagination  as  to  chasten  down  the  matter-of-factness  of  her 
style,  which  is  eminently  beautiful.  She  is  perfectly  acquainted  with 
her  subject,  and  expresses  herself  in  a  manner  at  once  clear  and  forci 
ble,  affectionate  and  convincing.  It  is  well  known  how  much  the 
intellectual  character  of  the  child  depends  on  that  of  the  mother,  and 
yet  girls  are  brought  up  and  educated  as  if  they  were  born  only  to  buzz 
and  flutter  on  the  stage  of  life,  instead  of  forming  the  character  of  a 
future  generation  of  men. — Montreal  Gazette. 

Mrs.  Phelps's  course  of  lectures  furnishes  a  guide  in  the  education 
of  females,  for  mothers  as  well  as  for  the  young!  all  may  profit  by 
the  just  and  practical  ideas  it  contains  relative  to  the  various  branches 
of  education.  It  should  be  in  the  hands  of  all  who  are  educating 
others,  or  attempting  to  instruct  themselves.— Mad'lle  Muntgoljier  of 
France. 

Mothers  may  find  in  this  book  a  valuable  assistant  to  aid  them  in 
bringing  up  their  daughters  to  prefer  duty  to  pleasure,  and  knowledge 
to  amusement;  and  who  would  teach  them  to  be  learned  without  pe 
dantry  and  graceful  without  affectation.  Educate  your  daughters  "  to 
be  wise  without  vanity,  happy  without  witnesses  and  contented  without 
admirers." — Southern  Religious  Intelligencer. 

Of  Mrs,  Phelps'  Lectures  to  young  ladies,  I  cannot  speak  in  suffi 
ciently  high  terms  of  commendation.  Such  a  work  was  greatly  needed 
and  musf  prove  of  inestimable  value.  I  am  in  the  practice  of  reading 
portions  of  it  to  my  school,  &c.  I  shall  recommend  to  all  young 
ladies  who  are  or  may  be  under  my  care  to  possess  themselves  of  copies 
of  the  book. — Miss  E.,  Principal  of  the  celebrated  school  for  young 
ladies  at  Georgetown.  D.  C. 

Rev.  Win.  Cogswell,  Sec.  A.  B.  C.  F.  M.,  writes  the  publishers,  I  un 
derstand  that  you  are  about  issuing  a  second  edition  of  Mrs.  Phelps' 
"Lectures  on  Female  Education."  This  fact  I  am  happy  to  learn. 
I  can  cordially  recommend  them  as  being  well  adapted  not  only  to  inter 
est  and  instruct  the  young:  ladies,  of  the  institution  for  whom  they  were 
originally  designed,  but  also  others  in  similar  institutions.  The  style 
and  execution  of  the  work  is  highly  commendable;  and  the  subjects  on 
which  it  treats,  important  to  young  Ladies,  acquiring  a  finished  educa 
tion.  Its  originality  and  value,  entitle  it  to  an  extensive  circulation, 
which  I  doubt  not  it  will  obtain. 

Boston,  Oct.  16,  1835. 


6 

FOREIGN  CONSPIRACY  AGAINST  THE  LIBER- 
TIES  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES.— 2d  edition. 

One  excellence  of  the  publication  before  us,  almost  peculiar  to  this 
writer,  when  compared  to  others  who  have  written  upon  this  subject  in 
our  country,  is,  that  it  handles  the  matter  of  discussion  with  calmness, 
the  writer  not  suffering  himself  to  indite  his  letters  under  the  influence 
of  exacerbated  feelings,  but  wisely  avoids  those  harsh  and  blackening 
epithets  which  do  more  to  irritate  the  i  assions  than  to  convince  and 
enlighten  the  judgment.  On  this  account  the  book  may  be  read  with 
profit  by  all. — N.  Y.  Christian  Advocate.  (Methodist.) 

The  letters  of  Brutus  deserve  an  extensive  circulation. — Missouri, 
St.  Louis  Observer.  (Presbyterian.) 

"  From  what  I  have  seen  and  know,  the  fears  entertained  by  the 
writer  in  the  New- York  Observer,  under  the  caption  of  '  Foreign  Con 
spiracy,'  &c.  are  not  without  foundation,  especially  in  the  West." — Let 
ter  of  a  Traveller  in  the  West.  (Maryland,)  Methodist  Protestant. 

"BRUTUS. — The  able  pieces  over  this  signature,  relative  to  the  de 
signs  of  Catholicity  in  our  highly  favored  land,  originally  published  in 
the  New-York  Observer,  it  is  now  ascertained  were  written,  not  by  an 
individual  who  was  barely  indulging  in  conjectures,  but  by  one  who 
has  witnessed  the  Papacy  in  all  its  deformity.  One  who  has,  not  long 
since,  travelled  extensively  in  the  Romish  countries,  and  has  spent 
much  time  in  the  Italian  States,  whe*re  the  seat  of  the  Beast  is.  Rome 
is  familiar  to  him,  and  he  has  watched  the  movements  there  with  great 
particularity.  We  may,  therefore,  yield  a  good  degree  of  credence  to 
what  Brutus  has  told  us.  His  numbers  are  now  published  in  a  pam 
phlet,  and  the  fact  which  has  just  come  out  in  regard  to  his  peculiar 
qualification  to  write  on  this  great  subject,  will  give  them  extensive  cir 
culation." —  Uiica  Baptist  Register. 

The  numbers  of  Brutus. — "  Our  readers  are  already  acquainted  with 
their  contents.  The  object  is  to  awaken  the  attention  of  the  American 
public  to  a  design,  supposed  to  be  entertained  by  the  despotic  govern 
ments  of  Europe,  particularly  of  Austria,  in  conjunction  with  his  Holi 
ness  the  Pope,  to  undermine  gradually  our  free  institutions  by  the  pro 
motion  of  the  Catholic  Religion  in  America.  The  letters  are  interest 
ing,  from  the  numerous  facts  which  they  disclose;  and  are  deserving 
the  careful  attention  of  the  citizens  of  these  United  States,  who  should 
guard  with  vigilance  the  sacred  trust  which  has  been  confided  to  us  by 
our  fathers." — N.  Y.  Weekly  Messenger. 

The  work  embodies  a  mass  of  facts,  collected  from  authentic  sour 
ces,  of  the  deepest  interest  to  every  friend  of  civil  liberty  and  Protestant 
Christianity.  The  efforts  of  despotic  European  sovereigns,  to  inocu 
late  our  country  with  the  religion  of  Rome,  are  fully  proved.  Could 
they  succeed  in  these  efforts,  and  annihilate  the  spirit  of  liberty  on  our 
shores,  the  march  of  free  principles  in  our  own  dominions  would  cease. 
They  could  then  sit  securely  on  their  thrones,  and  rule  with  a  rod  of 
iron  over  their  abject  vassals.— Ohio,  Cincinnati  Journal,  (Presbyte^ 
rian.) 


COMPREHENSIVE  SYSTEM 

OF 

MODERN  GEOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY: 

REVISED    AND   ENLARGED 

From  the  London  edition  of  "  Pinnock's  Modern  Geography,"  and 

adapted  te  the  use  of  Academies  and  Schools  in 

the  United  States,  with  an  Atlas. 


BY     EDWIN     WILLIAMS 


Author  of  the  New  Universal  Gazetteer,  New-York  Annual  Re 
gister,  etc. 


KEW-VORK  : 

LEAVITT,  LORD  &  CO., 

180  Broadway. 


Extracted  critical  remarks  from  the  English  Reviews  of  Pinnock  > 
Modern  Geography  and  History. 

"  Mr.  Pinnock's  Catechisms  and  other  publications 
have  made  his  name  universally  known  throughout  the 
country,  as  one  of  the  most  meritorious  and  successful  au 
thors  in  this  department  of  literature,  who  have  ever  di 
rected  their  attention  to  inform  the  rising  generation. 
The  present  volume  is,  in  all  respects,  worthy  of  his  name; 
it  is  well  conceived,  well  arranged,  diligently  edited,  and 
beautifully  got  up,  at  a  very  moderate  cost.  By  mingling 
the  attractions  of  history  with  the  dry  details  of  geographical 
science,  the  study  is  rendered  pleasing  and  interesting. 
Ample  intelligence  is  produced,  in  the  first  instance,  and 
then  the  learner  is  judiciously  exercised  by  questions  on 
the  subjects  as  they  occur." — Literary  Gazette. 

"  This  is  truly  the  age  of  intellectual  improvement, 
and  in  every  form  and  manner  exertions  are  multiplied  to 
advance  it.  Daily  the  unwearied  press  teems  with  new 
publications  in  aid  of  truth  and  knowledge.  Compendi- 
ums,  abridgments,  and  compressments  of  scientific  lore, 
rapidly  succeed  each  other  in  their  pretensions  to  public 
favor ;  and  it  is  now  a  point  of  competition  amongst  au 
thors  and  publishers  to  give  the  greatest  quantity  of  valu- 


able  information  for  the  least  money.  It  was,  however,  it 
seems,  reserved  for  the  experienced  author  of  the  work 
before  us  to  excel  all  his  predecessors  in  this  particular  ; 
and  we  cannot  restrain  our  admiration  when  we  observe 
the  immense  collection  of  geographical  and  historical 
learning  comprised  in  this  little  book.  It  is  impossible, 
in  the  limits  to  which  this  notice  can  extend,  to  give  a  de 
tailed  account  of  the  plan  of  Mr.  Pinnock's  work  :  suffice 
it,  that  its  title  is  fully  answered  in  the  compilation,  and 
that  it  is,  in  our  judgment,  eminently  calculated  to  super 
sede  the  use  of  those  elementary  geographical  works  in 
present  use,  which,  however  useful  they  may  be,  are  ut 
terly  poor  and  meagre  when  compared  to  this.  The  as 
tronomical  portion  of  Mr.  Pinnock's  book  is  excellent, 
and  the  historical  memoranda,  which  follow  the  account 
of  each  country,  are  highly  interesting,  and  tend  to  en 
liven  the  study  of  geography,  while  they  furnish  a  fund 
of  instruction  to  the  learner. 

"  On  the  whole,  this  multum  in  parvo,  for  such  it  pre 
eminently  is,  is  calculated  to  become  a  universal  instruc 
tor  in  the  knowledge  of  the  earth.  It  will  not  be  con 
fined  to  the  use  of  schools,  for  adults  will  find  it  a  valua 
ble  addition  to  their  Biblical  store." — Courier. 

11  This  is  unquestionably  the  very  cheapest  work  of 
the  sort  that  has  hitherto  issued  from  the  press;  and  it  is 
but  doing  a  bare  act  of  justice  to  the  public-spirited  pub 
lishers  to  say,  that  they  deserve  the  most  unlimited  pat 
ronage.  The  literary  arrangement  of  the  whole  does 
great  credit  to  the  well  known  talents  and  indefatigable 
research  of  Mr.  Pinnock;  and  instead  of  the  study  being, 
as  was  the  case  some  twenty  years  ago,  dry  and  almost 
appalling,  it  is  rendered  familiar  and  entertaining,  from 
its  being  mixed  up  with  numerous  anecdotes  associated 
with  the  history  of  the  countries  described." — Berkshire 
Chronicle. 

"  A  truly  comprehensive  compendium  of  geographical 
and  historical  information,  judiciously  blended,  has  been 
heretofore  a  great  desideratum.  Mr.  Pinnock's  name 
has  for  many  years  been  a  standard  warranty  to  school 
books  ;  and  this,  his  last  labor,  fully  sustains  his  estab- 


lished  reputation.  It  is  a  very  comprehensive  condensa 
tion  of  all  which  is  necessary  in  teaching  the  important 
science  of  geography.  The  statistical  details  of  conn- 
tries  are  pleasantly  relieved  by  a  series  of  admirable  histo 
rical  memoranda,  which  bear  evidence  of  fidelity  and  a 
deep  research.  We  are  surprised,  in  looking  through  the 
book,  to  observe  what  a  vast  quantity  of  instruction  is 
comprised  in  its  446  pages." — Sunday  Times. 

"  We  have  just  now  before  us  a  handsome  and  com- 
pact  little  volume,  '  got  up'  with  great  care,  taste,  and 
judgment :  '  A  Grammar  of  Modern  Geography  and  His 
tory.'  The  quantity  of  really  useful  information  that  it 
contains  is  astonishing." — La  Belle  Assemblee. 

"To  Mr.  Pinnock  belongs  the  merit  of  inventing  those 
Catechisms  of  Science  and  General  Knowledge,  which 
even  a  Lord  Chancellor  condescended  to  read  and  to 
praise.  Nothing  more  is  necessary  to  be  said  to  recom 
mend  his  book  in  every  quarter." — London  Magazine. 

"  Grammar  of  Geography  and  History. — Every  per 
son  engaged  in  the  education  of  children,  will  be  much 
pleased  to  turn  over  the  pages  of  one  of  the  best,  because 
most  simplified,  and  at  the  same  time  compendious  works 
on  geography  that  has  ever  yet  appeared.  The  name  of  Pin- 
nock  stands  at  the  head  of  modern  pioneers  in  the  march  of 
Juvenile  Intellect ;  and  the  present  volume  is  another  exhi 
bition  of  his  meritorious  industry.  It  is  announced  among 
our  advertisements,  and  we  are  sure  that  our  readers  will  be 
thankful  for  thus  having  specially  directed  their  attention 
to  so  useful,  elegant,  and  withal  very  cheap  a  publication." 
Taunton  Courier. 

"  Pinnock' 's  Modern  Geography. — We  call  the  atten 
tion  of  our  readers,  and  more  especially  the  heads  of  se 
minaries,  to  a  useful,  splendid,  and  singularly  cheap  work, 
just  published  by  Pooh  tif  Edwards,  entitled  *  A  Com 
prehensive  Grammar  of  Modern  Geography  and  History.1 
Without  any  exception,  it  is  the  best  book  of  the  sort 
hitherto  published." — Windsor  Herald. 

"  This  little  book  is  of  a  description  much  superior  to 
the  ordinary  class  of  school  books.  Its  author  needs  no 


praise  from  us,  as  his  long  and  faithful  services  to  the  cause 
of  education  have  met  that  general  approbation  which  is 
their  fittest  and  highest  reward.  We  are  happy  to  say,  that 
the  same  judicious  industry  which  distinguished  his 
smaller  works  for  the  benefit  of  children,  is  displayed  in 
full  force  in  the  little  volume  now  on  our  table.  Tt  is 
well  arranged,  and  written  in  a  clear,  simple  style.  But 
k  is  also  much  more  than  a  mere  outline  of  geography, 
for  it  also  contains  an  admirable  summary  of  the  most 
important  points  in  history  and  chronology  :  and  its  pages 
are  interspersed  with  interesting  physical  facts  relating 
to  the  various  countries  under  consideration.  We  ap 
prove  much  the  catechetical  system  of  teaching,  which  is 
provided  for  by  questions  appended  to  each  section.  These 
will  enable  the  self-instructer  to  ascertain  with  ease  and 
certainty  what  real  progress  he  has  made  in  the  acquisi 
tion  of  knowledge.  A  good  treatise  of  this  comprehen 
sive  nature  has  long  been  wanting  in  our  schools.  To  those 
whose  time  will  not  permit  them  to  turn  to  more  ponder 
ous  sources  of  information,  and  to  those  who  may  wish  to 
refresh  their  memories  by  looking  over  an  accurate  sum 
mary  of  facts  already  known,  we  heartily  recommend  this 
Geography  as  the  best  elementary  work  we  have  seen." — 
London  Weekly  Review. 

From  the  New-York  Evening  Post. 

To  the  publishers,  the  public  are  indebted  for  an  ele 
mentary  work  on  Geography,  which,  from  a  more  atten 
tive  examination  than  we  are  usually  able  to  give  to  books 
of  that  description,  we  think  will  prove  a  very  useful  vol 
ume  in  the  education  of  young  persons.  The  work  we  al 
lude  to  is  a  very  neat  and  well  printed  edition  of  Pin- 
nock's  Modern  Geography  and  History,  wholly  revised  and 
much  enlarged  by  Edwin  Williams,  of  whose  accuracy 
and  research,  as  a- statistical  writer,  the  public  have  al 
ready  had  various  satisfactory  evidences.  The  depart 
ment  of  knowledge  in  which  the  labors  of  Mr.  Williams 
have  been  mainly  exerted,  have  necessarily  furnished  him 
with  a  copious  store  of  materials  highly  useful  to  be  em 
ployed  in  a  work  like  that  which  has  now  engaged  his  pen* 
The  original  work  of  Mr.  Pinnock  bore  a  high  reputation 


both  in  England  and  this  country,  and  its  value  is  now  very 
greatly  increased  by  the  extensive  and  judicious  improve- 
ments  made  by  Mr.  Williams.  To  convey  some  idea  of 
the  superior  excellence  of  the  present  edition  over  any  pre 
vious  one,  it  needs  only  to  be  stated  that  the  portion  rela 
ting  to  America,  has  been  wholly  rewritten  and  enlarged 
so  as  to  extend  through  more  than  a  hundred  additional 
pages.  The  recent  changes  in  the  political  divisions  of 
South  America  are  also  carefully  noted,  and  a  succinct  and 
clear  history  of  its  various  revolutions  is  given.  Numer 
ous  other  improvements  of  the  original  work  have  been 
made  by  Mr.  Williams,  but  what  we  have  stated,  will 
serve  to  convey  some  idea  of  the  additional  value  he  has 
imparted  to  a  production  which  before  enjoyed  a  high  rep 
utation.  The  publishers  deserve  credit  fo  the  exceedingly 
neat  style  in  which  they  have  published  this  useful  ele 
mentary  work. 

From  the  Commercial  Advertiser. 
Pinnock  has  done  very  essential  service  to  the  cause 
of  education,  by  his  excellent  editions  of  established 
school  books.  To  go  no  farther,  this  is  the  best  compendium 
of  geography  we  have  yet  seen  for  schools.  The  Euro 
pean  States  are  never  treated  with  the  importance  they  de 
serve  in  our  ordinary  school  books  of  this  description. 
Here  they  receive  great  attention,  and  the  American  de 
partment,  under  Mr  Williams'  careful  and  accurate  super 
intendence,  is  not  behind  them,  while  the  history  of  each 
State  is  woven  in  its  leading  facts  with  its  description. 

From  the  New-  York  American. 

This  is  a  well  printed,  and  we  dare  say,  a  well  digested 
compound  of  geography  and  history,  adapted  for  young 
persons.  The  portion  relating  to  America  has  been  re 
written  here  and  much  extended,  and  in  that  very  fact  we 
see  evidence  to  strengthen  a  conviction  we  have  long  en 
tertained,  and  occasionally  expressed,  that  the  elementary 
works — those  of  history  especially — designed  for  Ameri 
can  schools,  should  be  written  at  home. 

From  the  New-  York  Weekly  Messenger. 
We  have  rarely  met  with  a  work  of  this  size  embrac- 


ing  so  large  a  fund  of  useful,  we  might  say  necessary, 
knowledge  of  a  geographical  and  historical  character. 
This  work  is  formed  on  the  basis  of  Pinnock's  celebra 
ted  Manual  of  Geography,  combining  the  leading  facts  of 
history.  It  has  been  revised  by  Edwin  Williams,  Esq,,  a 
gentleman  well  known  as  the  author  of  the  New- York  An 
nual  Register,  and  New  Universal  Gazetteer,  &c.  That 
part  of  the  work  relating  to  our  own  country  has 
been  entirely  rewritten,  and  occupies  about  one  hundred 
closely  printed  pages.  It  will  command  a  place,  as  a 
elass  book,  in  all  our  respectable  seminaries  of  learning  ; 
but  a  work  of  this  kind  ought  not  and  will  not  be  con 
fined  to  schools.  It  will  be  found  in  the  library  of  the 
scholar — the  cheerful  and  happy  dwelling  of  the  farmer— 
the  workshop  of  the  mechanic — the  closet  of  the  student 
— and  the  counting-room  of  the  merchant,  by  aH  of  whom 
it  may  be  advantageously  consulted  as  a  book  of  refer 
ence. 

From  the  Knickerbocker. 

Mr.  Edwin  Williams,  whose  "  Annual  Register"  and 
**  Universal  Gazetteer"  are  so  favorably  known  to  the 
public,  has^  recently  issued — revised  and  enlarged  from  the 
London  edition,  and  adapted  to  the  use  of  Academies 
and  Schools  in  the  United  States — Pinnock's  celebrated 
Modern  Geography-  The  part  relating  to  America  has 
received  numerous  important  additions  in  the  revision,  and 
the  whole  may  be  relied  on  us-  affording  a  faithful  picture  of 
the  present  state  of  the  world,  as  far  as-  known.  The 
work  presents  a  combination  of  geography  and  history, 
which  renders  it  both  useful  and  entertaining.  The  latter 
quality  is  an  unusual  feature  in  most  of  our  modern  school 
geographies. 

From  the  New-  York  Courier  and  Enquirer. 
Williams'  Geography. — The  habits  and  studies  of  Mr. 
Williams  render  him  peculiarly  fitted  for  an  undertaking 
of  this  sort,  and  he  has  performed  the  task  well.  Pinnock's 
original  work  is  in  some  respects  one  of  the  best  to  be 
foundj  but  the  labors  of  Mr.  Williams  have  rendered  this 
edition  exceedingly  valuable.  We  have  looked  this  book 
through  with  considerable  attention,  and  find  a  mass  of 


American  information  there  embodied  far  beyond  our  ex 
pectation.  We  question,  indeed,  whether  any  other  book 
in  print  contains  as  much  ;  and  we  are  mistaken  if  it  is  not 
extensively  made  use  of  hereafter  in  our  schools  and  acad 
emies.  Few  men  in  the  country  have  amassed  more  sta 
tistical  material  than  Mr.  Williams,  and  none  have  spread 
it  before  the  public  with  more  accuracy.  This  book  alone 
is  sufficient  to  entitle  him  to  the  thanks  of  the  commu 
nity. 

From  the  New-Yorker. 

Pinnock's  Geography. — Mr.  Edwin  Williams,  favora 
bly  known  as  the  compiler  of  several  statistical  works  of 
acknowledged  merit,  has  just  submitted  to  the  public  an 
Americanized  edition  of  Pinnock's  "  Comprehensive  System 
of  Geography  and  History" — the  part  relating  to  the  Uni 
ted  States  having  been  entirely  re-written  and  extended 
over  one  hundred  pages.  The  high  reputation  of  the  original 
author  as  a  geographer,  affords  a  satisfactory  guaranty  for 
the  character  of  the  work,  which  is  adapted  to  the  use  of 
seminaries  without  forfeiting  its  claims  on  the  attention  of 
the  more  abstract  student  of  geography  and  history. 

From  the  New- York  Observer. 

Williams'  Geography  and  History. — Mr.  Edwin  Wil 
liams,  the  publisher  and  compiler  of  the  New-York  Annual 
Register,  has  prepared  a  new  geography  for  the  use  of 
schools,  founded  on  Pinnock's  work  on  modern  geography, 
which  has  been  revised  and  extended.  The  plan  is  to  com 
bine  a  summary  of  the  history  of  each  country  with  its 
geography,  and  to  adapt  it  to  the  use  of  schools  and  acade 
mies,  by  references  to  the  maps,  and  by  questions.  The 
part  of  the  work  relating  to  America  has  been  entirely  re- 
written,  and  copious  additions  have  been  made  to  other 
parts  of  the  volume.  We  have  not  found  time  to  examine 
the  work  critically,  but  we  have  no  doubt,  from  what  we 
know  of  the  qualifications  of  the  author,  that  it  is  one  of 
the  most  valuable  works  of  the  kind  in  the  market. 

From  the  Albany  Argus. 

Modern  Geography  and  History. — Mr.  Edwin  Williams, 
the  publisher  and  compiler  of  the  New-York  Annual  Re- 


8 

gister,  has  added  another  to  the  valuable  publications  for 
which  the  public  are  indebted  to  his  industry  and  enter- 
prise,  in  a  revision  and  extension  of  Pinnock's  celebrated 
work  on  modern  geography.  The  plan  of  this  geography 
is  to  combine  a  summary  of  the  history  and  present  condi 
tion  of  each  country  with  its  geography,  and  to  adapt  it  to 
the  use  of  schools  and  academies,  by  references  to  the  maps, 
and  by  questions  designed  to  elicit  from  the  learner  the 
facts  stated  in  the  historical  and  statistical  parts  of  the 
work.  Numerous  additions  have  been  made  in  the  revi 
sion,  particularly  in  that  part  relating  to  America,  which, 
it  appears,  has  been  entirely  re-written  and  extended  over 
one  hundred  pages.  It  gives  also  full  descriptions  of  the 
West  India  Islands,  not  particularly  noticed  in  any  other 
geography ;  extended  notices  of  the  modern  divisions  and 
revolutions  in  South  America,  and  in  Greece  and  Belgium, 
&c.  &c.  The  entire  work  appears  to  have  been  prepar 
ed  with  the  usual  care  and  accuracy  of  the  America  edit 
or  :  and  his  own  additions  are  among  the  most  valuable  of 
the  many  important  and  interesting  facts  with  which  the 
book  is  replete.  The  character  of  both  the  American  and 
the  English  author  must  commend  the  work  to  the  favora 
ble  notice  of  teachers  and  all  interested  in  facilitating  the 
business  of  public  instruction. 

Pinnock's  Modern  Geography  and  History,  revised 
by  Edwin  Williams,  is  an  excellent  compendium  of  the 
branches  on  which  it  treats,  and  we  cheerfully  recommend 
it  for  adoption  by  teachers  and  others.  Were  this  work 
in  general  use  by  the  higher  classes  in  academies  and 
schools,  the  labors  of  instruction  would  be  greatly  dimin 
ished  and  the  youth  of  our  country,  of  both  sexes,  would 
exhibit  a  knowledge  of  Geography  and  History  which  is 
far  from  being  frequent  at  present. 

JOHN  F.  JENKINS,  Principal  of  ^ 

the  Male  Department ;  I  *******? 

ARABELLA  CLARK,  Principal  of  f 
the  Female  Department ;  J 
February  22,  1836. 

Pinnock's  Geography. — This  is   an   excellent  book, 


9 

and  not  inferior  in  value  to  any  which  have  been  put  forth 
by  this  most  industrious  compiler  and  author. 

The  work  is  of  that  terse,  comprehensive  character, 
which  distinguishes  his  former  productions.  It  is  full  of 
entertainment  and  instruction,  clear  and  judicious  in  style 
and  arrangement,  discriminating  in  the  selection  of  topics, 
abundant  in  details,  and  conducted  with  that  peculiar  bre 
vity  which  leaves  not  a  word  redundant  or  deficient.  It  is  a 
valuable  class  book,  and  merits  general  adoption  in  the 
schools. — Silliman's  "  American  Journal  of  Science  and 
Arts.11  Vol.  XXVII.  No.  2.  July,  1835. 


Works  Published  by  Leavitt,  Lord,  $  Co. 

RECOMMENDATIONS  OF   BARNES'   NOTES. 

Front  Abbott's  Religious  Magazine, 

We  have  previously,  in  a  brief  notice,  recommended  to  our  readers 
Barnes'  Notes  on  the  Gospels.  But  a  more  extended  acquaintance  with 
that  work  has  very  much  increased  our  sense  of  its  value.  We  never 
have  opened  any  commentary  on  the  Gospels,  which  has  afforded  us  so 
much  satisfaction.  Without  intending,  in  the  least  degree,  to  disparage 
the  many  valuable  commentaries  which  now  aid  the  Christian  in  the 
study  of  the  Bible,  we  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  our  gratitude  to  the 
Author,  for  the  interesting  and  profitable  instructions  he  Has  given  us. — 
The  volumes  are  characterized  by  the  following  merits. 

1.  The  spirit  which  imbues  them  is  highly  devotional.    It  is  a  devotion 
founded  on  knowledge.    It  is  a  zeal  guided  by  discretion. 

2.  The  notes  are  eminently  intellectual.    Apparent  difficulties  are  fairly 
met.    They  are  either  explained,  or  the  want  of  a  fully  satisfactory  expla 
nation  admitted.     There  is  none  of  that  slipping  by  a  knot  which  is  too 
common  in  many  commentaries. 

3.  The  notes  are  written  in  language  definite,  pointed  and  forcible.  There 
is  no  interminable  flow  of  lazy  words.    Every  word  is  active  and  does  its 
work  well.    There  are  no  fanciful  expositions.    There  are  no  tedious  dis 
play  of  learning. 

There  may  be  passages  in  which  we  should  diftV  from  the  writer  in 
some  of  the  minor  shades  of  meaning.  There  may  be  sometimes  an  un 
guarded  expression  which  has  escaped  our  notice.  We  have  not  scruti 
nized  the  volumes  with  the  eye  of  a  critic.  But  we  have  used  them 
m  our  private  reading.  We  have  used  them  in  our  family.  And  we  have 
invariably  read  them  with  profit  and  delight. 

We  have  just  opened  the  book  to  select  some  passage  as  an  illustration 
of  the  spirit  of  the  work.  The  Parable  of  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus  now 
lies  before  us.  The  notes  explanatory  of  the  meaning  of  the  parables,  are 
full  and  to  the  point.  The  following  are  the  inferences,  which  Mr.  Barnes 
deduces. 

"  From  this  impressive  and  instructive  parable,  we  may  learn, 
11 1.  That  the  souls  of  men  do  not  die  with  their  bodies. 
"2.  That  the  souls  of  men  are  conscious  after  death ;  that  they  do  not 
sleep,  as  some  have  supposed,  till  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 

"  3.  That  the  righteous  are  taken  to  a  place  of  happiness  immediately 
at  death,  and  the  wicked  consigned  to  misery. 
"4.  That  wealth  does  not  secure  us  from  death. 
"  Htow  vain  are  riches  to  secure 
Their  haughty  owners  from  the  grave. 

"The  rich,  tne  beautiful,  the  gay,  as  well  as  the  poor,  go  down  to  the 
grave.  All  their  pomp  and  apparel ;  all  their  honors,  their  palaces  and 
their  gold  cannot  save  them.  Death  can  as  easily  find  his  way  into  the 
mansions  of  the  rich  as  into  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  and  the  rich  shall 
turn  to  the  same  corruption,  and  soon,  like  the  poor,  be  undistinguished 
from  common  dust,  and  be  unknown. 

"  6,  We  should  not  envy  the  condition  of  the  rich. 

"  On  slippery  rocks  I  see  them  stand, 
And  fiery  billows  roll  below. 

11 6.  We  should  strive  for  a  better  inheritance,  than  can  be  possessed  in 
this  life. 

"  '  Now  I  esteem  their  mirth  and  wine, 
Too  dear  to  purchase  with  my  blood, 
Lord  'tis  enough  that  thou  art  mine, 
My  life,  my  portion,  and  my  God.' " 

"  7.  The  sufferings  of  the  wicked  in  hell  will  be  indiscnbably  great. 
Think  what  is  represented  by  torment^  by  burning  flame,  by  insupportable 
thirst,  by  that  state  when  a  single  drop  of  water  would  afford  relief.  Re 
member  that  all  this  is  but  a  representation  of  the  pains  of  the  damned, 
and  that  this  will  have  no  relief,  day  nor  night,  but  will  continue  from 


Works  Published  by  Leavitt,  Lord,  $  Co. 

RECOMMENDATIONS  OF  BARNES' NOTES. 

year  to  year,  and  age  to  age,  and  without  any  end,  and  you  have  a  faint 
riew  of  the  sufferings  of  those  who  are  in  hell. 

"8.  There  is  a  place  of  suffering  beyond  the  grave,  a  hell.  If  there  is 
not,  then  this  parable  has  no  meaning.  It  is  impossible  to  make  anything 
of  it  unless  it  is  designed  to  teach  that. 

"  9.  There  will  never  be  any  escape  from  those  gloomy  regions.  There 
is  a  gulf  fixed— fixed,  not  moveable.  Nor  can  any  of  the  damned  beat  a 
pathway  across  this  gulf,  to  the  world  of  holiness. 

"  10.  We  see  the  amazing  folly  of  those,  who  suppose  there  may  be  an 
end  to  the  sufferings  of  the  wicked,  and  who  on  that  supposition  seem 
willing  to  go  down  to  hell  to  suffer  a  long  time,  rather  than  go  at  once  to 
heaven.  If  man  were  to  suffer  but  a  thousand  years,  or  even  one  year, 
why  should  he  be  so  foolish  as  to  choose  that  suffering,  rather  than  go  at 
once  to  heaven,  and  be  happy  at  once  when  he  dies? 

_"  11.  God  gives  us  warning  sufficient  to  prepare  for  death.  He  has  sent 
his  word,  his  servants,  his  son  ;  he  warns  us  by  his  Spirit  and  his  provi 
dence,  by  the  entreaties  of  our  friends,  and  by  the  death  of  sinners.  He 
offers  us  heaven,  and  he  threatens  hell.  If  all  this  will  not  move  sinners, 
what  would  do  it  7  There  is  nothing  that  would. 

"12.  God  will  give  us  nothing  farther  to  warn  us.  No  dead  man  will 
come  to  life,  to  tell  us  what  he  has.  seen.  If  he  did,  we  would  not  believe 
him.  Religion  appeals  to  man,  not  by  ghosts  and  frightful  apparitions. 
It  appeals  to  their  reason,  their  conscience,  their  hopes,  and  their  fears. — 
It  sets  life  and  death  soberly  before  men,  and  if  they  will  not  choose  the 
former  they  must  die.  If  you  will  not  hear  the  Son  of  God,  and  the  truth 
of  the  Scriptures,  there  is  nothing  which  you  will  or  can  hear;  you  will 
never  be  persuaded,  and  never  will  escape  the  place  of  torment." 

If  we  have  any  influence  with  our  readers,  we  would  recommend  them 
to  buy  these  volumes.  There  is  hardly  any  Christian  in  the  land,  who  will 
not  find  them  an  invaluable  treasure. 

Extract  of  a  Letter  from  a  distinguished  Divine  qf  New  England. 

It  (Barnes'  Notes)  supplies  an  important  and  much  needed  desideratum 
in  the  means  of  Sabbath  School  and  Bible  Class  instruction. 

Without  descending  to  minute  criticism,  or  attempting  a  display  of 
learning,  it  embraces  a  wide  range  of  general  reading,  and  brings  out  the 
results  of  an  extended  and  careful  investigation  of  the  most  important 
sources  of  Biblical  knowledge. 

The  style  of  the  work  is  as  it  should  be, '  plain,  simple,  direct ;  often 
vigorous  and  striking;  always  serious  and  earnest. 

It  abounds  in  fine  analyses  of  thought  and  trains  of  argument,  admira 
bly  adapted  to  aid  Sabbath  School  Teachers  in  their  responsible  duties: 
often  too,  very  useful  to  Ministers  when  called  suddenly  to  prepare  for 
religious  meetings,  and  always  helpful  in  conducting  the  exercises  of  a 
Bible  Class. 

Without  vouching  for  the  correctness  of  every  explanation  and  sentiment 
contained  in  the  Notes,  its  author  appears  to  have  succeeded  very  nappily 
in  expressing  the  mind  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  revealed  in  those  parts  of  the 
New  Testament  which  he  has  undertaken  to  explain. 

The  theology  taught  in  these  volumes,  drawn  as  it  is  from  the  pure 
fountain  of  truth,  is  eminently  common  sense  and  practical. 

It  has  little  to  do  with  theory  or  speculation. 

The  author  appears  not  to  be  unduly  wedded  to  any  particular  school  or 
system  of  theology,  but  to  have  a  mind  trained  to  habits  of  independent 
thinking,  readily  submissive  to  the  teachings  of  inspiration,  but  indisposed 
to  call  any  man  master,  or  to  set  up  anything  in  opposition  to  the  plain 
testimony  of  the  Bible. 

We  would  here  say,  once  for  all,  we  consider  Barnes'  Notes  the  best 
commentary  for  families  we  have  seen.— N.  E.  Spectator. 

3 


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